Christmas Aftermath: Holmes at Home
by Pakmai
Summary: Sherlock and John return to Baker Street after a rollercoaster Christmas. How will they cope with their new relationship in every day life? It won't be easy, life with Sherlock Holmes never is. Will they make it out stronger than before, or will it destroy what they have? Sequel to Holmes Family and Friends Christmas Surprises, Sherlock/John. NOW COMPLETE!
1. Chapter 1

**And here we are, this is my sequel to Holmes Family and Friends Christmas Surprises. Might not make a lot of sense at first without reading the first story. I have lots of ideas for this fic, but I am always open to others, so reviews/comments are most welcome!**

**Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own these characters.**

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Interestingly enough, when the two men arrived back at Baker Street things go relatively back to normal, as normal as it gets. There might be a few more brushes against eachother, but nothing really different. They unpack, John starts laundry and cleans up, they exchange gifts with Mrs. Hudson, eat Christmas dinner with her and then return to their flat where Sherlock goes to fiddle on his computer, and John sits down to read.

After a few hours of that, John gets up and stretches, shoulder and back popping a little, making him groan. Re-adjusting his shirt, he smirks a little as he notices a certain consulting detective watching him from his seat at the desk. Slowly, he walks over toward the younger man, bracing one hand on the desk, the other on the back of the chair, leaning in to give Sherlock a slow kiss. Letting the kiss linger for a few long minutes, he finally breaks it, and he smiles. "I'm going to bed." He says softly before he straightens. "I assume you won't be sleeping tonight, don't destroy anything, alright?" he asks, running a hand through Sherlock's hair before he smiles and turns to head toward the stairs up toward his room.

Watching the doctor stretch is a very attractive thing, Sherlock decides. So is watching him strut towards him. He merely nods a little to John's words before he watches the man walk away. "Where are you going?" Sherlock finally asks when he sees John heading toward the stairs.

"To bed. I just told you that, Sherlock." John says with a little shake of his head as he looks back at the younger man, looking patiently amused at least.

"Yes, yes, I heard that, John." Sherlock says impatiently, waving his hand a little through the air. "What I meant is.." he hesitates, frowns, opens his mouth, closes it, and then says, "We shared a bed last night." In a blunt sort of tone. "Was that an isolated incident? Are we not going to share a bed from now on?" He looks rather crestfallen, having looked forward to being able to sleep in the same bed as him again.

Yeah, John was wondering when that might come up, and he runs a hand through his hair, returning to the living room. "Sherlock, after last night.. I don't think that's a good idea." he says slowly as he watches the stubborn man. "Not after last night. I could have seriously hurt you, Sherlock, just because I had a nightmare. I'm not risking that again." he says in a firm tone, crossing his arms over his chest.

Another frown from the seated man. Nope, he is not having any of that. He is not about to be denied something that he wants so much. So, he does what consulting detectives do best, he deduces the man in front of him, slowly standing and clasping his hands behind his back. "That makes no logical sense, John." He finally says as he looks at the man. "Your nightmares have significantly decreased since coming to reside at Baker Street." He hesitates, then adds, "At least, while I was here." He says, wiggling his fingers a little where he has them clasped behind his back. "You think of this place as home, you're comfortable here. Christmas Eve you encountered trauma, in the form of nearly getting hypothermia. You were combative, on edge because of Mycroft, and the dinner and party." he says as he looks at John. "That increased your stress levels, which, combined with the unfamiliar atmosphere of my childhood home, and the emotional upheaval of our emotional revelation all combined to put you on edge. I believe that led to your increased likelihood of violent nightmares." he says as he walks over to stand in front of John. "And if we are going to.. attempt a relationship with any sort of intimacy beyond kissing, we are going to share a bed eventually. Acclimatizing yourself to sharing your bed from early on will help prevent incidents later." He offers logically, very happy with his argument.

"No." John simply says with a little shake of his head. "I can't risk it, Sherlock. Not with you." He says, reaching up to lay his hand along Sherlock's neck, eyes clouded and sad as he strokes the pale column of skin slowly.

A slightly annoyed look comes from Sherlock as he looks down at the shorter man. "Yes." He says firmly, then considers. "If it would make you feel better, since I did not plan on sleeping tonight, I will sit in bed with you and remain awake. I have plenty of work to do on my laptop. Then you can get used to my presence, and if there is any danger of violent nightmares, I will be able to get out of bed before you have a chance to hurt me." He says quietly, then he slowly reaches out his hands, hooking his fingers into John's belt loops to pull him closer. "Please, John." he whispers softly, leaning in and giving him a soft kiss. "I slept very well, next to you, John. Can we at least try? Perhaps.. sleeping next to you would encourage me not to mind sleeping so much." he offers, thumbs stroking John's sides slowly.

It's not as if John could ever say no to Sherlock before they got into a relationship. Sure, they would argue and fight and ultimately compromise. That is if John didn't just end up giving in to him. But now, with something like this, it's so much more tempting. The words spoken in the detective's beautiful, smooth baritone sends shivers down the doctor's spine. And of course the promise of getting Sherlock on a somewhat regular sleep schedule is the thing that clinches it. With a little sigh, John tilts his head forward to rest it against Sherlock's shoulder for a moment, letting out a little groan. "Fine. Alright." he says before he leans back a little, looking up at the detective. "We'll try it for a few nights. But if I attack you again, or have a nightmare like that again..." He trails off threateningly.

"Yes, yes. If that happens, we will stop the experiment." Sherlock says quickly, confident in his own deductions. "Your bed or mine?" he finally nearly purrs, hoping to distract his tiny soldier.

"That.. is just not fair." John says with a sigh, then he considers. "Yours. Probably more comfortable anyway, you bloody, sensual man." he says with a shake of his head, moving away from him and kissing his lips lightly. "I'll go change." he says before he disengages Sherlock's hands from him and retreats upstairs.

Satisfied, Sherlock grins and goes to his bedroom, changing his sheets quickly just to make sure that John doesn't comment and because he can't remember the last time he was in bed. He then retrieves books and his own laptop, setting them beside his side of the bed, even changing into his own pajamas before he waits for John.

It takes a few more moments, since John has his evening routine, but he eventually comes down in pajama pants and a t-shirt, though his t-shirt is a little more snug than ones he's worn before, knowing that the man waiting for him will appreciate it.

That is definitely the truth, as Sherlock stares at John as soon as the older man enters the room, looking him over slowly, before he smirks. "Showing off for me, John?" He asks playfully before he moves over to put his long arms around the smaller man. "If you wanted to do that, you should forego the shirt altogether.. Your body is much more impressive." He says with a little smile, sliding his hands up under John's shirt to start tugging it up a little.

John can't help but laugh a little. "Alright, alright.." he says before he strips off the shirt and lets it fall to the floor. "Better, you mad man?" He asks affectionately, giving him a quick kiss before he tries to escape those lanky arms so he can get into bed, taking the opportunity to look around the man's room. He'd only been in there once, when The Woman drugged him, and he was rather surprised since, compared to the rest of the flat, the bedroom is strikingly sparse and clean, but the periodic table on the wall always makes him smile. Seeing as how the detective has obviously claimed one side of the bed, John walks over to the other, pulling back the covers to slip beneath them. It's only then that he realizes how thoughtful Sherlock can really be, since he notices he won't have to lay on his bad shoulder if he wants to face Sherlock as he sleeps.

When the younger man just stands there, John props himself up on one elbow, leaning his head into his hand as he watches Sherlock. "Well?" He asks with amusement.

Sherlock couldn't help himself, he just wanted to watch his army doctor for a few moments, the confident grace, the utter awareness of himself and his surroundings. At least that's how it seemed. He watches the emotions play across John's face, as he realizes how Sherlock chose 'his' side of the bed, and he can't help but smile a little. And damn, if the older man doesn't look good in his bed, his brain supplies when John looks up, amused and curious.

"Nothing. Merely enjoying the new. Committing it to memory." Sherlock says quietly as he watches John, before he moves forward and slides into the bed, shuffling over to the older man for a moment in order to lean over him and place a soft kiss on his lips. "Goodnight, John." he says quietly with a little smile before he returns to his side of the bed, leaning over to grab his laptop as he props himself against the headboard.

Watching his mad flatmate's actions, John can't help but chuckle a little before he slips down into the bed, fluffing the pillow before he lays down on his stomach. It's an easy way for him to sleep but one that he doesn't usually feel comfortable sleeping in, because it's too vulnerable. But with Sherlock there beside him, he feels comfortable. Shifting a little, he turns his head toward Sherlock, admiring the man working on his laptop. Squirming a little until he gets comfortable, John feels Sherlock pull the covers up around his shoulders after closing his eyes and he smiles a little.

"Thank you. Goodnight, Sherlock."


	2. Chapter 2

It seems that one night full of nightmares, and the return to familiar territory are not enough to drive away the fear in John's subconscious. It just takes on a different form this night, shortly after 3am. For two years he had familiar nightmares of the Fall, seeing his best friend jump off a roof, not able to do anything about it, not able to talk him down, just told to stand there and watch. TOLD to stand there and watch.

The dream started as it always did, and though John knew what was coming there was nothing he could do but follow what was already written for him, unable to change the past, even in his memories.

'What's going on?'

'An Apology. It's all true.'

'What?'

'Everything they said about me. I invented Moriarty.'

John felt his heart drop, knowing what was coming, felt the familiar confusion as to why Sherlock was saying these things when the good doctor knew that they were wrong. He had never doubted Sherlock, not really, and now he was saying that he was a fake all along?

'Nobody could be that clever.'

'You could.'

He believed that with all of his heart, he knew that Sherlock was clever, the most clever man he had ever known. He had seen him on dozens of investigations, solving them with an ease that was shocking. He has glimpsed that genius closer than anyone else, and he would never forget, never stop believing in his best friend, in the beautiful, brilliant detective.

'Keep your eyes fixed on me. Please, will you do this for me?'

It was the worst request that Sherlock could have ever asked of John, and perhaps the most cruel, he would think in the days after Sherlock's apparent death. To make his best friend watch him jump. He understood it now of course, it was to make sure that Sherlock could survive. The dream shifted here, it no longer followed the script, it veered off the page, making John's heart start pounding more, fear surging through him as memories from the ride home mix with memories from the Fall.

'I'm afraid of losing you, John.'

The voice is not quite so confident now, and John doesn't have a response, he can feel himself frozen in place. And the dream shifts again, going completely off page, out of memories and into the realm of fiction.

'I can't lose you again, John.'

And then it happened, and once again John was frozen in place, watching Sherlock tip forward, arms spread as if he were falling into a fluffy cloud or a pile of leaves.

'No. Don't-'

"SHERLOCK!" John is in motion again, sitting straight up in bed this time as he cries out, covered in sweat and looking around frantically.

When John started to thrash in his sleep and whimper, Sherlock wasn't sure what to do this time. He was a little uncertain as to whether to wake John up, so he tried talking to him softly, nonsense to soothe him, touching his arm and brushing his fingertips across his forehead, the book he was reading forgotten beside the bed. But his voice seemed to only make things worse, so he stopped talking. And even though it might have seemed like an eternity to John, his dream was not that long in reality. When he sits up screaming Sherlock's name, it tears at the detective's heart and he's immediately there, sitting beside John.

"I'm here, John." He says as he finally realizes what the doctor must have been dreaming about, though he can't imagine what could have triggered those dreams that the older man hasn't had for months now. But he knows what he can do, and so he slips his arms around him, pulling John's head down against his chest, letting him hear and feel his heartbeat. "I'm alive. I'm here. It was just a dream." He soothes in a deep, soft tone.

Willingly being pulled over, John turns slightly and despite his years, he clings to the younger man, hand clasping into his shirt both in front of him, and on Sherlock's back as he buries his face against the warm, very alive chest in front of him. He tries to take a few deep breaths to settle himself, but it's not use, he can't stop the few broken sobs that escape him. "Sherlock..." he whispers in a broken tone, nearly toppling them both over when he presses closer. He doesn't think about his sweaty, uncomfortable state, just that the man, his detective, is right here. He's alive, and that is the reality and not the dream.

After nearly being knocked over, Sherlock shifts back a little, pulling John with him before he lays back on the bed, never letting go of him. Instead, he pulls John closer to him, mostly on top of him by now. But he doesn't mind, it lets him wrap his arms more fully around him. "I'm here, John." He soothes quietly, rubbing the soldier's back slowly. "I'm not going anywhere." he says quietly, worried and frustrated because he's not sure how to solve John's nightmares, wondering if he could do a series of experiments to help him. But no, John doesn't like it when Sherlock experiments on him without his knowledge, and it's probably a lot worse when it has to do with something as intimate as his nightmares.

"Do you want to tell me about them?" Sherlock asks softly, kissing the top of John's head, knowing that it might help him. He's read that talking about nightmares might help a person with the, but of course he's never been in this situation so he's not sure if that theory is correct.

"It was the Fall." John says simply, as if it will explain everything, and to the detective, it does. The former soldier whimpers lightly as he feels Sherlock's arms tighten around him, and he shifts, sliding up a little to nuzzle into Sherlock's neck, feeling his pulse there and the warmth of his skin, wiggling a little until his hands can slide up under the t-shirt that the detective is wearing, wanting to feel that soft skin under his hands, so much more reassuring than anything else. "I'm sorry.. I.. I haven't.. had those dreams for.. for months." He says quietly, placing a soft kiss on that long column of skin along Sherlock's throat.

Tilting his head back a little, Sherlock exposes his neck to John, willing to give the doctor anything if it will make him feel better. "I know. I used to hear you, when you had those nightmares. I never knew what was appropriate, what I could do.." he says quietly as he considers it, still slowly rubbing John's bare back.

John nods, accepting that easily since he knows that there is no way the man who stays up all night for days on end would not hear him screaming in his sleep. But at the time he figured the man deserved it. He continues to nuzzle and place soft kisses along the detective's neck as he cuddles with him, not really even aware how much he's doing it, he just wants to feel the skin against him, the warmth and the pulse under it. "Can I.. just stay like this, for a while, Sherlock? I know.. you have things you wanted to do tonight, but I just.. I need.." He trails off, his throat closing off again as he swallows a little.

A small nod is given from the detective and he squeezes John gently. "Of course, John. Whatever you need." he says quietly, kissing the top of his head before he shifts, tilting the doctor's head up slowly in order to lean down and press his lips tenderly to the older man's. After a moment, he shifts and deepens the kiss, wanting to give John something good to think about and get his mind off of the dream. He keeps the kiss from becoming too involved, both because they did sort of agree to take things slow, and because John is not in the emotional or physical state to get too involved in anything. Not for their first sexual encounter at least.

When the kiss finally ends, they're both breathing a little heavier, and Sherlock places a tender kiss on John's forehead. "Go back to sleep. I'll be here when you wake up." he reassures as he pulls the covers up around John a little to keep him warm, then goes back to soothingly rubbing meaningless patterns on his back.

Relaxing into the kiss and responding easily to the impromptu snog session, he gives a little sigh when their lips part again, before he cuddles down against Sherlock, still laying mostly on top of him and not seeming to care. then again, the detective hasn't objected either. It's not so hard for the doctor to slowly start falling asleep again, sliding down a little so he can hear Sherlock's heartbeat, falling asleep to the strong, steady sound.

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**Alright, I know, I did a nightmare scene in the last story, but this is a very different one, and I just couldn't get it out of my head. Especially since I saw The Hobbit: Desolation of Smaug today and Bilbo reminds me of John from The Riechenbach Fall. **

**I have another chapter that I hope to do tonight, with BAMF-John, and something that, from the sounds of it, quite a few of you have wanted to see. But you'll have to read to find out what it is! ;)**

**Thank you so much for the overwhelming number of follows already! I'm glad you enjoy it.**

**Reivews/comments welcome! And if there's anything you'd like to see, I'd love to hear it!**


	3. Chapter 3

Sometime during the night, Sherlock drifts into a half-sleep sort of state, going over things and reorganizing his Mind Palace. Which makes it easy for him to hold John throughout the night and keep his promise to be there when the older man wakes up. Unfortunately, nature interferes with those plans, and he has to untangle himself from, and slip out from under John at around 8am, noting that John is sleeping longer than usual, probably because of his nightmare, Sherlock muses as he takes care of his business, frowning when his phone starts ringing and he quickly snatches it up. "Sherlock Holmes." He states in a soft voice before he heads out of the bedroom, lingering outside the door to watch nervously since he doesn't want to go back on his word but he doesn't want to wake up the doctor either.

"Sherlock. It's Lestrade. I'm sorry, I know it's Boxing Day, but we've had a rather odd murder, and, well.. we'd all like to get back to our families." Lestrade's voice comes over the line, sounding frustrated and tired.

Considering the sleeping doctor in his bed with a little smile, Sherlock nods a little. "Of course. Text me the address, John and I will be there within the hour." He says before he hits the 'end' button on his new phone. "John! John, get up, we've got a case!" he says excitedly as he fairly bounces toward the bed, rolling John over and leaning down to give him a fierce kiss. "Come on, John!" he says after the kiss when he sees the doctor blinking up at him. "We have a case!" he says before he bounds off toward the bathroom.

This is just all too familiar to John, having Sherlock yell at him at some ungodly time in the morning, and then being shaken awake and - oh, that's new. He's not used to being kissed awake when Sherlock has a case. He returns it in kind while he can, blinking at the detective and smiling as he watches the madman rush off. Sitting up on his elbows and feeling slightly dazed for a moment, he finally sits up and stretches, rubbing his shoulder. "Alright, I'm up.. I'd better get breakfast before seeing any crime scene, especially since it's bloody Boxing Day!" He calls to Sherlock, hearing the shower start up, shaking his head for a moment.

The mussed, curly haired head peeks around the bathroom door. "Come on, John! It's quicker if we share a shower." Sherlock nearly demands before he disappears again.

Well, that could be a nice view first thing in the morning. His inhibitions aren't nearly awake yet apparently as he turns to walk toward the bathroom. "You really are a madman." he says with a smirk, shaking his head again but following him into the bathroom.

The detective is already in the shower by the time John joins him, and he smirks a little, rather proud of himself for being prepared, they switch positions so John is under the spray while the detective hands him his preferred body wash and shampoo, nicked from his case the day before to hide in the younger man's own bathroom. Just in case.

John blinks a little at the bottles, then shakes his head. "Of course. I should have known you'd be prepared." he says with a shake of his head, quickly washing his hair before he starts to scrub off all the sweat from the night before, smiling a little as he feels the detective place a wet kiss on the back of his neck, warm hands helping to soap up his back and clean it off before they move to his waist and they shuffle around so the younger man can rinse out his hair. Probably conditioner, John muses, quite amused that Sherlock takes such care with his hair and skin care, despite claiming to not care what anyone thinks.

After helping the taller man wash up his back as well, enjoying touching that flawless skin, though he does spot a few little scars and wonders at the stories behind them. Shaking himself out of those thoughts, he touches Sherlock's back for a moment. "I'm getting out." He announces, before he slips out, used to taking quick showers. After drying himself off, he puts the towel around his waist in time for Sherlock to step out and John to hand him a towel.

"You should move your things down here. So you don't have to go upstairs for clothes." Sherlock says with a smirk as he watches John.

Glancing at Sherlock and adjusting the towel around his waist as he picks up his pants, John shakes his head. "Blimey, Sherlock. We just started dating two days ago." he says with a little laugh, before he says, "I'll be back down after I've gotten dressed and had a shave." he says as he touches his scruffy jaw.

Disappointed that that ploy didn't work, Sherlock pouts slightly. "Yes, but we've been co-habitating for quite a while." He calls after John, drying his hair and dressing in one of his suits, glancing at himself in the mirror before he strides out into the main room, going to at least flick on the kettle for John.

Dressed in his normal jeans, button-up and jumper and feeling much better, John returns downstairs, sighing a little. "Bloody suits again, then." He says as he looks at Sherlock. "It's really not fair." He notes, and as much as he wants to go over and touch him or kiss him, he figures this counts as being 'on a case', and so he doesn't. He remembers the rules, moving to the kitchen to make two cups of tea. "Are you eating this morning?" He calls over his shoulder.

"Mmmm.. no." Sherlock says from close behind John, making the doctor jump as he reaches past him for his tea, brushing against him deliberately.

John sighs, glad he hadn't had his tea in hand when Sherlock made him jump and he takes a drink of his tea before he turns toward Sherlock. "You know, if I'm not allowed to kiss you or anything while you're on a case, it's really not fair for you to tease me." he says as he looks up at Sherlock, well aware that at the moment he's got a handsome, lanky man in front of him, and a counter at his back that he's casually leaning against.

Considering that for a few moments, Sherlock smirks. "We're not on a case yet." he says before he dips his head and gives John a sweet, tender kiss.

Of course, as soon as he reaches up to cup Sherlock's cheek softly, there's a little knock on the door frame and a distinctive, "Whoo-hoo!" Of Mrs. Hudson before she rounds the counter, carrying a tray of breakfast pastries. She gasps a little as she sees the position the two are in. "Oh! Should I just put this down and go, then?" She asks with a knowing glint in her eye.

Shocked, John jerks away from the kiss and he turns a bright red, right up to the tips of his ears as he looks around Sherlock, clearing his throat. "Ah. Um. Good morning, Mrs. Hudson. I thought you were leaving for your sister's today?" He asks, trying to nudge Sherlock out of the way.

Unfortunately it seems that the taller man is not willing to move just yet, and he lowers his head slowly, letting out a deliberate sigh across John's neck before he places a soft kiss there, smirking when he gets more roughly pushed away, and he picks up his mug of tea, rather pleased with himself.

Mrs. Hudson laughs a little. "Oh, I'll be leaving in a few hours, dear. I just thought you two might appreciate some breakfast, I had far too many of these after my cooking in the last few days.." She says before she smiles, tears coming to her eyes. "Oh, I'm so happy for you two, it's about time." She says firmly, swatting John's arm in a motherly gesture before she pulls him into a tight hug, kissing his cheek firmly. "You're so good for him, John. I always knew you would end up together someday.." She coos at him happily, giving him another surprisingly firm hug that makes him turn a bit pink.

"Thank you, Mrs. Hudson." John says after escaping from Sherlock only to be hugged by Mrs. Hudson. When she releases him, he goes to pluck a pastry off the tray.

Turning her focus toward Sherlock, Mrs. Hudson smiles. "Oh, Sherlock.. I thought you would never see what a wonderful man John is, and how devoted he is to you..." She says in a scolding tone, walking over to pull him down in to a tight hug as well, one of the few people that Sherlock lets get away with this.

"Now, don't you dare do anything to hurt the poor doctor again, he's been through quite enough waiting around, pining after you." Mrs. Hudson says scoldingly as she looks at Sherlock sternly, putting her hands on either side of his face. "You've looked so happy these past months, I thought you two had already.. well. But it was rather obvious you were still beating around the bush. I can't wait to tell Mrs. Turner." She says excitedly, tears still lingering in her eyes. "Oh, my sweet boys.." she says as she steps back to look at both of them. "You take care of eachother while I'm gone, and don't you dare shoot up my walls!" She says as she points at Sherlock. With another loving, motherly smile at the two, she sniffles a little and blots at her eyes before she bustles back out.

"Well.. that was awkward. We need to remember to close the door now.. just in case.." John says as he looks at Sherlock, eating his pastry as he sips his tea. "So? Are you eating or not?" he asks with a smirk.

"No. I had quite enough yesterday and the day before." Sherlock says as he sips his tea, watching John curiously, nearly vibrating in his eagerness to leave, but he's being good and not saying anything, waiting for his little doctor to finish eating.

Nodding a little, John smirks as he notices the impatience clear in Sherlock's body language and on his face. But for once not coming out of his mouth. That could be a good change, he decides. But still, he finishes his tea and everything, smirking as he walks over and pushes Sherlock's collar aside a little. "Well, that turned a rather lovely shade, didn't it?" he asks as he looks at the love bite he left on Sherlock's neck the day before. It won't be visible with his collar unless he turns his head the right way.

Readjusting his collar, Sherlock pouts slightly at John. "Do we tell the Yard that we're now a couple, or would your rather keep it a secret?" he asks rather bluntly as he watches the other man closely.

"Well. We're on a case, and you have the no-touching rule. I wouldn't mind them finding out, I couldn't care less what others think. I still want to see how long it takes them to figure it out though." John says with a little smirk as he watches the taller man for a moment, taking their empty dishes to the sink before he finds something to cover the pastries with so they won't go stale, finally walking over to get his new coat on with a little smile.

Sherlock quickly bounds over, grabbing up his scarf and coat, considering for a few moments before he smirks, putting the scarf back on the hook and putting his coat on. "Yes, lets see how long it takes their miniscule minds to figure it out." He says caustically, smirking a little when there's a beeping from outside.

"Our cab is here. Come on, John, the game is on!"

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**Sooo.. I lied. This chapter was getting too long so I had to split it up. Next chapter: BAMF-John, promise!**

**I think I might be spoiling you guys with so many chapters in one day but I just can't help myself. I do intend to have daily updates though, so don't fear!**

**Reviews/comments welcome!**


	4. Chapter 4

**WARNING for swearing.**

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Then they arrive at the scene, the police and everyone is already there, Lestrade looking utterly relieved as they stride up. "Thanks for coming, guys. Especially with the holidays. Murderers, they have no respect." he tries to joke, glancing between them. "Have a good Christmas?"

John shakes the man's hand in greeting before he nods a little. "We did, thank you. And thank you for the present, Greg. Had no idea you've been secretly taking pictures." he jokes with a little smile, before he glances at his flatmate who is already moving around the scene taking everything in. Still, he looks at the detective fondly and a little proudly, not too far off from his usual expression but it's just a bit softer.

Lestrade nods a little. "Of course. Had to take a picture back then, never saw Sherlock get on so well with anyone before." he says with a little smirk, watching Sherlock before he says, "Body is inside, appears to be a closed-door murder, your favorite Sherlock." he calls to the other man, before he leads the two inside the house. "Front door was locked and bolted, we had to break it down when we got here." he says as he indicates it. "Neighbors heard screaming but didn't see anyone come in or out. We've searched the whole house, so if he's in here, he's bloody good at hiding." he explains as he watches them.

And everything would have been just fine, since Donovan has even been nicer to Sherlock since he came back from the dead. But Anderson knows how to hold a grudge like no other, and he was pissed when Sherlock's name was cleared. So he's been his unpleasant self. And he got called in on Boxing Day, so he's in an even worse mood today.

"We were fine, Lestrade, you didn't have to call the Freak in, it's not a serial murder, and we've barely started to process the scene!" Anderson snarks, glaring at Sherlock who is moving around like he owns the place.

"Barely started and still missing vital pieces of evidence, and contaminating the scene." Sherlock says as he indicates something his eagle-like eyes caught.

"There you go, bloody well showing off again, like we wouldn't have found that without your help. All you do is interfere and cause a ruckus." Anderson snaps in annoyance.

And that's about as much as the small former soldier can stand coming from Anderson today. "Shut it, Anderson." he snaps, everyone giving him a brief glance since he's usually the more tolerant of the pair. "Why don't you try keeping your trap shut for once, and gratefully accept help that will get you home sooner?" he demands as he watches Anderson, hands balling into fists at his sides.

But that doesn't keep the so-called forensics 'expert' from lashing out at his new target that has presented itself so easily. "Oh look, the little lap dog finally bares its teeth." He says with sarcasm heavy in his tone. "The only reason he keeps you around is for amusement. It's obvious to everyone how lovesick you are, you think a sociopath like him can ever feel anything for you?" he sneers as he looks John over.

Even Sherlock pauses when he says this, since that's a whole new level of mean for Anderson, and he looks up from where he was examining the corpse, trying to figure out if he should intercede. Lestrade had stepped out, so only Donovan and one other tech is there to witness Anderson's mouth vomit.

Drawing himself up to his full height, John's tone sharpens to one that draws the attention and respect of almost everyone in the room. "Excuse me?" he asks, walking over and standing very close to Anderson. "What the fuck do you know about Sherlock and I? Nothing." He doesn't let Anderson reply, snapping at him as soon as the other man opens his mouth. "Just because you live in your own bitter little world where you don't get to be the star and you no longer get your way, does not mean that you can put down everyone around you." he says as he emphatically points at the floor, holding Anderson's gaze as he uses the voice he used to use in the operating tents in Afghanistan, one that brooks no argument. "At least Donovan got wise and dumped your cheating, lying arse." he snaps, knowing it's a low blow but he doesn't feel like pulling punches.

And of course, instead of backing down like a smart man might have, Anderson's anger makes him think he's hot stuff, so he glares at the smaller man in front of him, even if he's a bit terrifying right now. "You don't know a bloody thing about me, Watson." he snaps, then he shakes his head. "Don't think we don't all know how pathetic you are. We saw it while Sherlock was gallivanting around the world, letting you think he was dead. You were pathetic. A dog without its master." he says with more sarcasm, and that's about the time that Lestrade walks in, but he's too shocked to say anything. "Don't think you're some hot stuff now that he's back. Because we all know how pathetic you really are. You two have some sort of sick, twisted relationship. You must be some kind of idiot, forgiving that bastard right away like you did." He continues to rant, though the tension in the room has gone up.

They all know, every single one of them knows, not to mention the Fall around John, how volatile he can be about it, so everyone stands and stares in shock. Even Sherlock slowly, warily stands from his crouch beside the body, prepared to step in but a little worried about whether he should.

"We heard the story about how the bastard made you watch, like it was some sick, perverted game to him. And you, you idolize him so fucking much, you probably play some sick games with him. Does he even acknowledge you, or do you get off on being ign-" He doesn't get any more out because John's anger has come to a head, and he hits Anderson, not hard enough to knock him down because, no, John doesn't want him on his arse yet. Harder to hit someone who is on the ground.

Army training kicks in, and when Anderson swings back at John, he smoothly ducks under it, while he lands a sharp, precise blow to Anderson's stomach. His elbow connects with Anderson's face shortly after and this time the man goes down. John's face betrays cold anger, not making a sound other than a few grunts where his hands hit Anderson.

Suddenly, everyone is in motion, Lestrade yelling as he moves toward John to hold him back, but Sherlock gets there first. Despite his lanky frame, Sherlock is strong, and he hooks both his arms around John's, trying not to apply too much pressure to his left arm to keep from hurting him, more, dragging him back away from Anderson before he can viciously stomp on his leg, which surely would have broken it. It takes a bit but Sherlock gets John outside, crowding him back against a corner of a wall before blocking him in with his body and his arms.

"Get out of the way, Sherlock. This is the last straw. I'm going to fucking kill him. I'm going to show him just why you don't fuck with a soldier." John says in a cold tone as he looks up at the taller man, not trying to force his way past Sherlock, but only because he was trying to defend the younger man, not hurt him.

Sherlock just watches him and he shakes his head. "You can't do that, or Lestrade might arrest you. As it is, he deserves what he got just now, but you can't seriously hurt him, John." he says with cool, gentle logic. He glances around, and since they're in an isolated part of the house, he lowers his head and puts his forehead against John's. "I need you to calm down, John. I can't do my job if I'm worried about you going off on someone." He says before he moves his head so his mouth is closer to John's ear. "My little soldier. We really must explore this side of you a little more when we have time. But now is not that time, John." He says quietly, dipping his head to kiss John's neck softly before he lifts it and looks into the shorter man's eyes.

Taking a few deep, measured breaths, John closes his eyes and tilts his head back against the wall, relaxing and allowing himself to focus on Sherlock's voice for a moment, before he nods quietly. "Yes. Right. Later." he says quietly, licking his lips and really wanting to kiss him but knowing he's not allowed right now. Plus, it's rather public and they are trying to figure out how long the Yard will take to figure it out on their own.

"Will I have two murders to investigate today if I release you?" Sherlock asks slowly as he starts to move away from John a little, testing his reactions.

A chuckle and a small shake of his head is given before John runs a hand through his hair, then back down and over his face. "No. I'm ok." he says with a small nod of his head. "I'm alright, Sherlock." He emphasizes, waiting for the taller man to move away before he adjusts his jacket and looks at the detective expectantly.

Satisfied, Sherlock nods and he turns to walk back to the crime scene, John at his back, glancing around and noting that Anderson has been taken away when they enter the room, and Lestrade is the only one left.

"Bloody hell, John." Lestrade says, looking a little stressed. "You know Anderson wants to press charges against you. I think you broke his jaw."

"Good, then he can't run his bloody mouth." John mutters, before he looks at Lestrade. "Tell him that if he wants to file charges that's his right. But also tell him that if he does, I'm going to file a formal complaint with Scotland Yard for his treatment of Sherlock and I at crime scenes which we were /invited/ to, as well as his general unprofessionalism at work." He says in a casual tone of voice as he watches the Detective Inspector, still seeming to stand at attention, even if he's not completely still and his thumb rubs across his fingers slowly.

Knowing that everything is safe now, Sherlock smirks a little as he goes back to his job, looking at the body and things in the room to figure the murder out so that he can be clever and solve it, wanting John to look at him with a smile and call him brilliant or amazing. Genius' do need an audience to show off to, afterall.

Lestrade sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Thought you might say something like that. I'm really sorry about what he said, John. It was insensitive and he should have known better. To be honest, I didn't know you could move like that. I mean, knowing you were a soldier and seeing you take someone down like that are two different things." He admits with a smirk, rubbing the back of his head.

John nods a little. "Yeah, took me a while to learn the style, but I was surprisingly good at it once I got down to it. It's all instinct now. Do me a favor and never sneak up on me if I look tense." He says seriously as he looks at the Detective Inspector. He rolls his shoulders for a moment, trying to loosen the tension there.

Nodding for a few moments in understanding, Lestrade does a double take as he looks at Sherlock. "Wait, Sherlock.. is that a hickie?" he asks in shock as he catches a glimpse of it.

Giving Lestrade a rather bored look, Sherlock glances up from his examination of the body. "I do believe it is, Inspector. With detective skills like that, it's amazing that you're Scotland Yard's finest." he says in a droll tone heavily laden with sarcasm.

John looks down a little and he chuckles softly, some of the tension sliding away from him as he listens to Sherlock being ridiculous, just shaking his head slowly.

Shaking his head a little and rolling his eyes, Lestrade sighs. "For all I know, it was some odd experiment you did that caused a bad reaction." He points out logically, and everyone seems to accept that as possible. "I didn't even know you did romantic relationships. Or was it just an overzealous shag?" he asks with a little grin, apparently glad to be on a better topic and discover that Sherlock is a little more human than he thought.

"My.. death.. rearranged my priorities a bit." Sherlock explains honestly, before he shrugs. "I am in a relationship, Lestrade, if you must know, and this was rather deliberate." he says as he motions vaguely toward his neck, making a sound of frustration as he moves over and fiddles with the TV and DVD player for a moment.

"Yeah, I can see how that might happen." Lestrade says as he glances at the placid face of John, who has moved over to examine the body, not seeming to be paying attention to the whole conversation. "So someone was placing their mark, eh?" He asks with a slight grin. "Possessive, aren't they?"

Sherlock smirks a little at that as he thinks about his former army doctor. "Oh yes. Quite possessive and jealous, as it turns out." he says with a dark chuckle, then his face smoothes out again and the warmth drains from his voice. "Now, I really do think we should focus on the dead woman and not my personal life."

It is almost more than John can do to keep a straight face, but he manages to finish casually examining the body. "No sign of a struggle, looks like she just sort of dropped over dead. No smell of alcohol or vomit, no patikia, no sign of suffocation or blunt force trauma, obviously no stab wounds." he says as he motions to the body and the utter lack of blood. "Could be something like an Aneurysm, but that doesn't explain the screaming. I don't think it was a heart attack judging by the general fitness and age of the victim." he says simply as he looks up at the others.

"Oh, good.. Very good, John. This is interesting, oh, what a wonderfully interesting case, Lestrade." Sherlock says, folding his hands in front of his face.

"Lestrade, text me when the autopsy report is in, I have a feeling that it will be most revealing."

* * *

**There we go, BAMF-John. Anderson being a jerk and getting just what he deserves. I wish I could have thought of a way for John to beat him up some more, but I knew someone would interfere before it got too far. This was somehow extremely satisfying to write. I think there may be more BAMF-John in the future, he was fun to write as the kick butt soldier.**

**Thank you to everyone who has favorited/reviewed so far, it really does inspire me and makes me do a little happy dance.**

**Reviews/Comments welcome, and encouraged! They make for productive writers! :D**


	5. Chapter 5

After leaving the crime scene, they grabbed a cab back to Baker Street, and most of it was spent in silence. Not an uncomfortable one, certainly, it's just that each man was in their own thoughts. It was Sherlock that spoke first though, his voice low and soft, as he notices John flexing his left hand, the one he used to hit Anderson's face.

"Did you hurt your hand?" There's a slight tone of concern in the baritone voice, as much as he might be trying to keep it out, for appearances sake. Still, Sherlock reaches over slowly and picks up John's hand, leaning over to examine it.

A soft chuckle comes from the doctor's mouth, and he smiles softly, shaking his head. "It'll be a little bit sore maybe, but nothing broken or sprained or anything like that. Just a little uncomfortable. Anderson's got a hard head." He says with a slight smirk as he watches his flatmate.

Satisfied after a few moments of examining John's hand, he gives his palm a gentle squeeze and releases it, looking into those deep blue orbs of John's eyes, trying to convey silently his concern and amusement.

It works, of course, John has been with the detective long enough to read even minute facial expressions, making him smile a little, giving him a slight nod. He then turns thoughtful as he remembers something Sherlock said at the crime scene shortly after Anderson was a whimpering lump on the ground.

'My little soldier. We really must explore this side of you a little more when we have time.'

While he tries not to bristle at the 'little soldier' part, given that Sherlock bloody Holmes is a giant, it's the rest that John is somewhat curious about, but he's a little hesitant to ask the other man about it. Afterall, when you live with Sherlock Holmes, you learn that piquing his curiosity is not necessarily a good thing and can sometimes have dire consequences.

He's saved from asking anything like that however, as Sherlock is still regarding him curiously and he finally turns to look out the window, hiding his facial expression as he casually asks, "John, do you still have your fatigues, from your time in the army?"

"Yes, of course I do." John says in confusion. "They're in a box in my closet." He notes, wondering where Sherlock is going with this. While it may be leading to answering his own questions, it may be for a completely different reason. For all he knows, Sherlock has just devised a wonderful experiment that needs the specific type of cloth they use in desert fatigues.

Not that Sherlock seems ready to explain just yet, he just gives a small, thoughtful little nod as he stares out the window. "And your dog tags are in there as well, I assume?" He asks, having realized the other night that John no longer wore them, and he's pretty sure that he used to wear them, at least for a while after moving into Baker Street.

Now that just makes the former army doctor even more curious as he watches Sherlock, trying to take a page from the detective's book and deduce what he might be thinking. And he fails horribly, of course. "No, they're in a box I keep und- hang on." he stops mid sentence as he looks at Sherlock. "You probably know the contents of my room and my closet better than I do. Don't think I don't know you've gone snooping in there more than once, and I know you've been in there in the last eight months." He points out as he continues to watch the man. "What is this about?"

Finally Sherlock turns his head toward John, watching him with a soft smile playing around the corners of his lips. "We know a lot about eachother, John. I know more about you than you do about me most likely, though not because you've told me directly. You still know more about me than anyone else in my life right now, I think." He says as he watches John, before he tilts his head. "But you still surprise me. After over two years, I am still seeing new sides to you that I never knew existed. I knew you were a soldier of course, the first time I saw you. But you were an army doctor, not exactly what one would think is a ruthless combatant. I've seen you shoot your gun, but I've never seen you in hand-to-hand combat." He says as he considers it as he watches John. "Except, of course, when I was trying to get you to punch me, but while you were annoyed and your fighting instincts kicked in when I hit you, you were not in the same realm as you were when fighting with Anderson today." He observes as he watches John. "I also have known that you had a temper, you stomp out of the flat often enough, but I did not know you had such restraint, or what you looked like when you were truly enraged." He trails off, not seeming to be willing to explain if he had a point in there anywhere, just stating his explanations.

But John had not spent the last two years with Sherlock for nothing, and he couldn't help but laugh a little as he considers where the brilliant man's mad brain could be taking this. "You want me to wear my fatigues around the flat, don't you?" He asks as he watches Sherlock curiously, also going in this direction so he doesn't have to talk about what happened too much, not yet.

Fortunately, John's deduction and statement of his conclusions pleases Sherlock, and he grins broadly at John. "Yes." He says simply with a small nod of his head. "Just around the flat, no need to wear them out, it would draw far too much attention." he says as he looks John over appraisingly for a few moments. "Thank you for understanding, John." he says quietly, taking the older man's guess to be consent as well.

"Now hold up." John says, holding up his hand, pausing when the cab stops, and he pays the driver before getting out. "There are a few rules. I am not wearing my full fatigues in the flat. Pants, boots and my undershirt, that's fine." he says as he looks over at Sherlock. "I am not going to perform for you like some clown, either." He says as he lets them both back into the flat, climbing the stairs and looking around. "Is that alright?" he asks as he looks at the detective.

Pleased to be home and getting his way, Sherlock leans over and gives John a kiss that makes the doctor nearly melt, before he pulls away enough to look into those blue eyes. "Yes, those are acceptable terms. I would like to see you in your full fatigues, just for a few minutes, if you would be agreeable." he offers as a sort of compromise.

Considering that for a few moments, John nods a little. "I think I can manage that." he says with a little chuckle. He gives the taller man one more little kiss before he starts to take off his jacket, frowning as his mobile starts ringing. He pulls it out and sighs as he looks at the caller ID. "It's Sarah." he says with a small sigh. The clinic is open today, but when he knew that he would go with Sherlock to his parents' house, he had gotten the week off. For a moment he hesitates before he picks it up. "This is John." he says in a slightly reluctant tone.

Looking rather displeased with Sarah calling, since he never liked her and was always a little jealous of her even at the beginning. But he knew that she helped keep John sane by keeping him employed while Sherlock was gone, even if he didn't work many hours, and was unemployed for a time.

"John, how was your Christmas?" Sarah asks conversationally, though there's an underlying note of tension to her tone.

"It was good, actually. More than good, it was brilliant. My Boxing Day is not going so well so far. I don't mean to be rude, but you remember I have the week off?" John says as he walks over to the window, looking out of it.,

"I know, I know, but Dr. Peterson called in sick today and they're apparently flooded with flu and food allergy cases, minor things but you know how people are this time of year, they go crazy." Sarah says quickly, sounding rather apologetic and pleading. "I would go in myself, but I'm down in Cardiff, and I won't be back until tomorrow." She explains, tone still apologetic.

Sighing heavily, John pinches the bridge of his nose, then he nods a little. "Right. Yeah. Hang on." he says before he puts his hand over the mouthpiece of the phone, looking over at Sherlock with a slightly pained expression on his face. "Do you need me for this case, Sherlock?" He asks, almost hoping the detective says yes.

Unfortunately John is not that lucky, and as Sherlock shakes his head. "They won't have the autopsy done until tonight, it will be hard to find someone to come in and do it, and they take forever with it when it's a good day. It's doubtful we'll have any meaningful leads until tomorrow." He says as he looks at John curiously.

"Still there, Sarah?" John asks into the phone, sighing. "You owe me big time for this. Tell Dr. Lanham I'll be there in half an hour." He says, not even listening to Sarah's profuse thanks as he hangs up on her, then he turns to Sherlock. "This is not my day." he grumbles, going to put his coat back on. "Text me if you need anything. Try not to blow up the flat." he says before he walks over toward him, intending to give him a kiss goodbye, but he remembers the rule, and that he already broke it earlier, nodding quietly before he turns sharply to head toward the door.

He's called back by said flatmate though, who gets up from where he was settled at his desk, walking over and kissing John softly. "Thank you." He says with a little smile, then adds, "Text me when you leave." he says before he walks back over to his computer.

Feeling a little better about the day, he nods a little. "I'll see you later, Sherlock." he says before he heads down and out toward the clinic, trying to put the badness of the day behind him.

* * *

**First of all, THANK YOU! 39 followers in about 36 hours. Wow. You guys are so awesome. Reading all the reviews just makes me want to sit and write, and write! I'm so glad that you all like this. This is flowing even easier than the last story, maybe because I have so many things I want to do with it.**

**I will probably have a second chapter up tonight because I have the rest of this scene written mostly in my head, or at least I know where I want to go with it, but this was a good stopping point, and I was eager to get this up to all you wonderful people!**

**Thank you so much, and reviews/comments as welcome as ever.**


	6. Chapter 6

It's much later that evening when John returns to the flat, and he is clearly not pleased. He doesn't even acknowledge Sherlock, who is stretched out on the sofa in his thinking pose. He takes off his jacket, hangs it up firmly and then removes his jumper which has a few different bodily fluids on it if anyone were to guess, and he vaguely throws it toward the laundry room before he pulls off his button-up and it follows the first shirt. He's got a snug, plain gray t-shirt on underneath, and he walks straight for the bookshelf, reaching up and taking down a thick volume from the shelf. He opens it up, revealing Sherlock's secret stash, and takes out one of the cigarettes and the lighter next to it, before he walks over to the window and cracks it open a little, lighting the cigarette and taking a slow, deep drag, only coughing once as he exhales, his eyes closed.

Watching his flatmate with rapt attention as soon as he stomped into the flat, Sherlock sits up. He didn't get the text from John saying he left, so is a little surprised that he suddenly shows up. He is sitting in the middle of the couch, suit jacket shed and the sleeves of his button up rolled up to his elbows. For some reason, this angry, silent John is a little intimidating, though he's fairly sure that the doctor would never hurt him. Still, he finds that all he wants to do is soothe John and relax him, see that easy smile come back to his face.

Hatching a plan, he gets up, putting John's discarded clothes in the laundry and starting the load as he quietly orders some takeaway for them, giving John a moment to himself as he makes tea. He brings the tea back to John, moving over close to him. "I didn't know you smoked. Surprising me again." he says with a little smile, handing the tea over and plucking the tempting cigarette out of John's fingers to take a drag of it himself, sighing a little.

John takes the tea gratefully as he takes a drink, glancing at Sherlock, watching the way the curls of smoke come from his lips almost elegantly. "I don't. I haven't smoked since Afghanistan. And I only had one here or there after an especially bad day, to help relax me." He says as he looks at Sherlock, taking it back when Sherlock offers it, taking another puff of it and blowing the smoke out the window.

Sherlock hums, a low sound in his chest as he moves behind John, deciding that he's more important than any casework that might be swirling around in his mind, and he slips his arms around the older man's waist, resting his chin on his shoulder. "What can I do to help?" he asks softly, feeling like he's at a little bit of a loss.

Apparently even being in his love's arms is helping John to relax, along with the nicotine. Figuring he really oughtn't to smoke the entire cigarette, he offers it back to Sherlock, who smokes it without removing it from John's fingers, smirking a little as he tilts his head back to blow the smoke toward the ceiling before the doctor reclaims it. "Let's just say it was a bad day full of frustrating parents of children, and children sick on too many sweets, a few cases of the flu..." he shakes his head. "And combined with the rest of the day.." John just sighs a little, frustrated as he finishes the cigarette and his tea, stubbing out the cigarette in the bit of liquid left in the bottom of his mug.

Keeping the shorter man close to him, Sherlock just nods a little as he thinks about it, then he finally murmurs, "I ordered takeaway for us." he says quietly, though it's still early in the evening, it is around dinnertime. "Maybe after that, a bath would help you relax, and I can give you another massage." He offers quietly, tilting his head down and kissing the top of John's shoulder softly, trying to shift his thinking to anything he might have absorbed over the years that would make John feel loved and happy. And the fact that he just thought about making John feel 'loved', is being pushed back into its little box for later examination.

For a moment, John tilts his head back against Sherlock, taking a deep breath and nodding quietly. "That sounds very nice, Sherlock.." he laughs softly. "Taking care of me for once?" he asks as he glances back at the man behind him, a little surprised but not about to question it too much. A cuddly, caring Sherlock is not something he will ever object to.

"Of course. We are in a relationship, John, and despite what you might think, I am aware of all the mundane things that are expected in a relationship. More than that, I have had a chance to observe your interactions with women, so I have some idea of what you prefer in a relationship." Sherlock says casually, sighing when he feels John stiffen a little in his arms. "I am not doing anything because I feel merely an obligation, John." he scolds lightly, kissing his neck. "I care about you. And it's obvious to anyone with eyes, apparently. It puts you in danger, it already has in the past, but that doesn't matter. You had a bad day." he says softly, sighing a little in frustration since his words are not conveying what he wants them to. "I just want my John back. I want to see you smile again when you're frustrated with me or you think I'm being an idiot." He says with a small shrug, slowly moving away from John when the doorbell rings and he goes downstairs, bringing back Chinese, which has sort of become 'their' food.

Feeling especially fond of his detective right now even though he's quite tired at the moment, John closes the window before he moves over to the kitchen. "You're eating?" he asks hopefully as he sees Sherlock getting out two plates and two glasses.

Avoiding John's gaze for a few moments, he nods quietly. "Yes." he says simply as he starts to dish out food onto both their plates. He hesitates for a moment, a small smile coming over his face as he has a thought, but it's only a few seconds.

Deciding not to argue, John gets them both something to drink before sitting down and eating, "Is your 'no-touching' rule still in place?" He asks curiously as he watches Sherlock. "Afterall, you also never eat when you're on a case." he says thoughtfully as he watches the man in front of him.

Confused for a moment, Sherlock swallows his food before he smirks, stretching his long legs under the table, slipping one foot between John's feet, the other on the other side of his leg. "You mean the case? It's solved." He says with a little shrug. "Turns out the woman had an aneurysm. She was watching a horror film, and at one point it startled her so badly that she screamed. The increase in heart rate, combined with the sudden jerking of her body caused the blood vessel to burst." He explains as he watches her. "The second scream the neighbor heard was from the DVD. It was played on a game system, which had a function causing it, and subsequently the TV, to turn off after a certain amount of inactivity. Which is why it was off when the police arrived." he says quietly before he goes back to eating.

"And you got most of that by just looking at the room, didn't you?" John asks, smiling briefly with a little nod of his head, finishing his food quietly, starting to get up, only to have one of his legs captured between Sherlock's feet, keeping him from getting up. "Sherlock.." he says as he watches the man warily.

"I'll take care of it. Sit and relax." Sherlock explains, getting up and going to the bathroom to start filling the tub with hot water, then he comes out, pulling down the scotch from the top shelf, pouring a bit in a glass for John and setting it down in front of him before he puts the bottle away again. Then he goes about putting away the leftovers, before he retreats to the bathroom again.

Watching all of this with a little bit of amusement, John arches an eyebrow at the glass of alcohol, but he thinks he deserves it after the day he's had, so he sips it as he admires the detective who is walking around the room, fluttering almost. When Sherlock goes to check on the bath, the doctor gets up and slowly follows him, leaning against the door frame, feeling more relaxed as he admires the younger man. Placing the glass in a safe place, he pulls Sherlock back from the tub by his hips, turning him to press him back against the sink before pulling him down for a more demanding kiss, having wanted to do that all day. The kiss only lasts for a few moments though before he leans back and just rests his forehead against Sherlock's. "How about you join me for the bath." He says hopefully, then he sighs, leaning more fully against Sherlock. "Being close to you tonight is what I need." he says quietly, aware that this might make Sherlock a bit uncomfortable and it might be too much emotion, but he's hoping that the genius detective will just go with it for tonight.

Yes, that does make Sherlock feel a little awkward, but soon he relaxes and puts his arms around John, nodding a little. "Alright." he says softly, pulling John's shirt off before he unbuttons his own. Undressing swiftly and efficiently, Sherlock finally slides into the bath, leaning back and watching John expectantly.

Not able to help himself, John just watches that lean body being bared to him, and he smirks a little, before he undresses as well and slips into the bath slowly, settling himself down between Sherlock's legs to lean back against his chest. Since he's shorter, it only makes sense, and it allows him to sit lower in the bath, without the cold porcelain against his shoulder. "Alright?" he asks as he looks at the detective's profile.

Smiling a little, Sherlock nods quietly as he watches John, "Yes, John. It's wonderful." he says as he relaxes and enjoys the sensation, but more than that, he enjoys the trust that John has in him. "Oh." He says, lifting his head. "I forgot. Lestrade said that Anderson will not be filing charges. Though you did fracture his cheekbone and break his nose." He says with a little grin as he looks at John.

Chuckling a little, which turns into a light laugh, John smirks a little. "Good. Bloody bastard." he mutters as he closes his eyes again, lifting one foot to turn off the faucet before he relaxes. "What did you do all day, then? I doubt solving the case took very long." he says quietly, trying to make conversation because he enjoys hearing Sherlock talk, the warm, deep tone of his voice soothing.

Sherlock chuckles a little. "I read, checked the website, finished up a few experiments. That reminds me, I forgot to give you one of your Christmas presents." he says thoughtfully as he looks at John. "You are too good a man, John. You should have said no when Sarah asked you to fill in." he says quietly, pouting a little.

"Speaking of Christmas..." John says with a little smirk. "I never knew you could sing. Your voice is amazing. See, I keep learning new things about you, too, Sherlock. But that's the wonderful thing about relationships." he says quietly with a little smile, shifting a little and then settling down into a more comfortable position. "I'd love to hear you sing again sometime, Sherlock. Anything you want. I think I might like it better than your violin." He teases, eyes closing slowly as the tension from the day, the anger and frustrations, start to melt away into the bath, even if his body stubbornly refusing to let go of the tension.

When John shifts, so does Sherlock a little, keeping one arm around John's waist, the other angling up so his hand rests firmly over the doctor's heart. He simply hums wordlessly for a moment as he places a few soft kisses along John's shoulder, nuzzling his skin softly in a gentle, affectionate gesture. Something he seems rather fond of. "Singing has never been something I enjoyed very much, but perhaps if you enjoy it.." he trails off and chuckles a little. "No, I think I will stay with the violin." He says with a little smirk as he watches his doctor, shifting a little before he reaches out and grabs a nearby wash cloth, dipping it in the water and starting to stroke it over any of John's exposed skin, mostly his shoulders and along his neck slowly, running purely on instinct because let's face it. When it comes to something like this, Sherlock Holmes has no idea what the hell he's doing. And he's deleted most of what he's seen or heard about relationships, never believing himself capable.

"If anyone could see you now, they wouldn't believe it, Sherlock." John says quietly, closing his eyes and relaxing a little more, obviously enjoying the attention. "I wonder how long it will be before Lestrade is asking you more questions about that hickie. Should I give you another one?" He asks playfully with a slight grin, definitely more relaxed now.

Sherlock snorts a little and shakes his head slowly, but never stops slowly, almost casually, running the cloth over John's exposed skin, dipping it into the water every now and then to warm it up. "Lestrade wouldn't know the truth about our relationship if it slapped him in the face. Which it probably will have to. I don't think any marks will be necessary, no, unless you want to give me a good snog in the elevator." He says with amusement as he looks at John's profile.

Laughing a little, John tilts his head back a little more, stretching a little so he can place a light kiss on Sherlock's jaw. "Wonder if they would understand if we both came in looking like we snogged eachother senseless. That wouldn't really be fair, though, would it? Let Lestrade put his skills to work to figure out who your possessive significant other is." he says with a smirk.

A chuckle comes from the younger man as well, the sound reverberating through John, before he presses a soft kiss to the back of John's jaw. "Mmph. Water is cooling down. Get up before we both get chills." he says as he nudges John rather unceremoniously.

"You're a cruel man, Sherlock Holmes.. I was just getting comfortable." John groans as he pulls himself up, wincing a little and stepping out, stretching a little. "Blimey, I'm getting old." He says with a sigh before he reaches for a towel to dry himself off, keeping his back to Sherlock so he doesn't have to see the younger rising gracefully out of the water like some primal sea god. And apparently when John Watson has a long day and his mind no longer wants to work, the writer in him turns up full blast. Shaking his head with a small chuckle, he dries himself off and pulls his boxers back on before he reaches out for his t-shirt, only to have it snatched away.

"I can't give you a massage if you're wearing a shirt, John." Sherlock says in his usual 'you're an idiot' tone, before he makes a shooing gesture. "Go get comfortable, do try not to fall asleep though." He says as he drains the tub and dries himself off, matching John's clothing by only pulling on a pair of boxers, at least until he gets to his - no, their - room, where he finds some pajama bottoms.

Turning toward the bed, Sherlock smirks a little to find John already stretched out and looking quite comfortable, legs spread a little and arms tucked under a pillow in a way to be comfortable, but still keeping his shoulders relatively straight, allowing Sherlock's hands better access. Clever, clever John. "Still awake?" he asks, leaning over to look at John's profile, only to be met by a slight smirk and one eye opening, but the doctor remains infuriatingly silent.

Still, Sherlock has a promise to fulfill, and he shifts until he's straddling the doctor's hips, gently applying his hands to the strong back in front of him, starting on his lower back, head tilting a little to watch the expression on John's face with a little smile. He's fairly sure that the man beneath him is deliberately being quiet just to frustrate him, since he was more talkative last time. He doesn't mind though, deciding to do some of the talking. "Well, since I have a captive audience, should I tell you about why I want to see you in your fatigues?" he asks, waiting for john to nod before he continues, keeping his voice lower and gentle, testing the doctor's reaction to it.

"I've noticed that there are subtle changes in both your body language and behavior depending on what type of clothing you're wearing. Your dress uniform for example had you at attention all night. You're most comfortable in a t-shirt or a jumper and jeans. You are very uncomfortable and self-conscious in a full suit, and uncomfortable. You get fidgety when you have to wear a suit, like you just want to blend into the background. But when you're dressing up for a date, you walk different, hips a bit looser, you nearly strut, John, as if you are perfectly aware of how very attractive you are. A particularly frustrating habit of yours, by the way." Sherlock says with a little sigh, recalling the times that he witnessed that particular walk. "It will probably taint the experiment, but I am rather curious how being in your fatigues will change your movement and body language. " he explains quietly as he watches John curiously.

For a few moments there is silence in the room as Sherlock moves his hands up John's back slowly, working deeply into the muscle, smirking triumphantly as he hears the older man groan out in a pain/pleasure way as he gets a particularly tight knot out. "I was worried you fell asleep for a moment." he says with a smirk as he watches John.

"No, not asleep. Just relaxing. And I suppose compared to other experiments you've done, asking me to hang around the flat in fatigues is rather tame." John admits with a little smile as he relaxes, yawning a little.

Sherlock smirks a little and then nods quietly as he slides his hands up to John's shoulders knowing that the older man will be asleep before he finishes.

"Then tomorrow we'll see what happens."

* * *

**This is longer than I expected. I kept trying to find a way to end it because I really need to go to bed and wanted badly to get this up tonight for everyone. So it ends kind of lamely. Sherlock is being cute again, at least in private. Probably will be more Lestrade stuff tomorrow. 'Cause, well.. We all want to see how long it takes him to figure out just who gave him that hickie!**

**Thank you everyone for reading!**

** welcome.**


	7. Chapter 7

As expected, John falls asleep under Sherlock's massage but he continues it, not wanting John to be stiff in the moment, waiting until he is satisfied that his doctor's back is free of knots before he slips off to pull the covers up around him. And since the older man did fall asleep under Sherlock's hands, when he continues to touch that muscular back, it only keeps the doctor relaxed, which is very satisfying to the detective. For hours he watches John sleep, watching his eyes, wanting to make sure that there are no nightmares, so he continues to stroke John's back, making meaningless designs, sometimes using his fingertips, sometimes his whole hand, sometimes the backs of his fingers.

Half the night goes by before Sherlock knows it, surprised that so much time could pass so easily. Finding himself getting rather tired, he nestles up close to John and allows himself to sleep while cursing his body for being so weak, both hating and liking his newfound need for sleep. Liking it because it means he can cuddle with John, see a new side of the man first thing in the morning, and hating it because it's a weakness of the body.

John wakes up first in the morning, surprisingly enough, and he smiles a little as he opens his eyes and sees the detective sleeping in front of him. Carefully, he lifts one hand and brushes some curls back from Sherlock's face, stroking his fingers down over his temple and along his jaw slowly, trying not to wake the man but almost feeling like he needs to touch him.

Thankfully the detective is too far into REM sleep, too tired to wake at the touch, just shifting a little to turn his head into it before settling down with a small sigh. John is grateful as he slowly slips out of bed, going to splash some water on his face before he goes upstairs to retrieve some pajama bottoms, pausing for a moment as he smirks at them. Slowly, he turns to his closet as he makes a decision, reaching up into it to pull down a box that has his army stuff in it, medals and clothes, putting on his fatigue bottoms but leaving himself shirtless and shoeless. He then turns and pulls out a locked box from beneath his bed, opening it and pulling out his dog tags, letting them rest in his palm for a moment before he slips the chain over his head. A small chuckle escapes him as he imagines Sherlock's reaction, finally turning to head back downstairs, purposely leaving Sherlock' bedroom door open so that when Sherlock wakes he will be able to see John in the main room.

During the two years that Sherlock was gone, John found ways of channeling his grief and his rage, and one of them was exercise. He lost weight after Sherlock 'died', not eating because he didn't see the point. When he finally started to work his way out of the grief he needed some outlet, and exercise seemed to be it. As a consequence, though he is a little leaner even then when he was in the Army, he's worked himself back into pretty good shape. And ever since Sherlock came back, he hasn't been able to keep up the same routine, but he still tries to exercise at home in the mornings, a simple workout before his shower. Now, he decides this morning is a good day to do that since he's up so early, starting to go through his routine.

When Sherlock wakes, he has a moment of panic when he finds the bed next to him empty, wondering if it was all a dream, then he hears noises from the main living area, and he lifts his head a little so he can see through the doorway, down the hall, just glimpsing the movement of a blonde head up and down. Accompanying that movement, he hears the soft clink of metal on metal and metal on wood which confuses him because he can't identify it. Slowly, he gets up, pulling on his dressing robe and some loose pajama pants before he nearly silently pads out into the kitchen, pausing in the doorway to stare at the sight before him.

Having worked up a slight sweat already, John is doing pushups, but with his feet up on the coffee table, putting more weight on his arms, though his bad shoulder is burning like it so often does, he is still pushing through them. his dog tags are dangling down, jangling against eachother and tapping against the floor every time he lowers himself. His form is excellent, his muscles flexing with each movement. He is aware that Sherlock is watching but doesn't break rhythm, only shifting the placement of his hands so that the sweat from his palms doesn't let him slip on the wooden floors.

This sight is nearly enough to make the world's only consulting detective salivate. He has no idea that Army-John exercising, doing so simple a movement, would be enough to make his heart pound and his hands itch to touch him. "John." He breathes, aware of the slight rasp to his tone as he stares at the man in front of him.

As if just realizing he's there, John tilts his head a little. "Good morning." he says with a slightly wolfish grin as he shifts his legs to get his feet on the floor, straightening to brush his palms off, taking a few deep breaths as he runs a hand through his hair and moves closer to Sherlock. "Did you sleep well?" he asks, as he grabs a nearby towel to wipe it over his face.

Still staring a little at his half-naked flatmate, Sherlock slowly licks his lips as he looks him over slowly. "Yes. Thank you." he says quietly, reaching out to gently pick up the tags resting against John's chest, warmed by his skin yet still slightly cool, running his thumb across the imprinted name, and ID number.

Feeling rather satisfied and smug that he's practically rendered Sherlock speechless, John settles into himself a little more, feeling comfortable in this persona, as it were, this part of him. He gets a slightly cocky grin on his face as he looks at Sherlock. "See something you like, Sherlock?" he asks, smirking as he moves forward a little, reaching out to slide his hands beneath the taller man's dressing gown to rest them on those slim hips.

Startled out of his contemplation of the tags in his hand, Sherlock gently lets them fall back to John's chest, looking up into his eyes. "Yes. I-" He pauses, hesitating for a few moments. "I had not anticipated the... change in you, John, merely by putting on your fatigues and dog tags." he admits, then he briefly looks confused. "Or, perhaps I should say my perception of you. You've always been an attractive man, and I never understood how a uniform could suddenly make someone more attractive, until now." He admits as he looks over the small army doctor in front of him. Slowly, he lifts his hand, brushing his hand over the stubbled cheek, before he lets the fingertips of his index and middle fingers trail firmly down John's neck from jaw, down along his pulse to his collarbone before sliding his fingers up the collarbone to the doctor's shoulder.

A small shiver goes through John and he smirks a little. "Glad you like it." He says, before he adds, "I think it is probably better that I caught you off-guard with it. You weren't expecting me to look like this first thing in the morning." He says as he drapes his towel over one shoulder, capturing Sherlock's hand in his. "Care to join me for a shower?" He asks, playfully taking the tips of those two fingers into his mouth for a moment, satisfied to hear a startled gasp come from the man in front of him. Taking pity on his detective, he smirks. "Come on, Sherlock. Shower." he says, turning Sherlock around firmly and frog-marching him back toward his room.

Rather shocked to this new side of John, Sherlock stares for a few moments at the older man, allowing himself to be walked back into the bathroom, reaching out to turn the shower on and remove his robe, hanging it up on the back of the door before he looks at John again. "You're leaner than you were in the army." He observes as he watches the older man.

"Hm? Yeah, I am a bit. How'd you know?" John asks curiously, having just been observing his friend, admiring his body, and now he's ready to admire his brilliant mind.

"Your belt." Sherlock says simply, deciding to get back at John a little, and he reaches out, long fingers deftly undoing the belt. "You had it fastened a notch smaller than the most worn hole, which is obviously the one you must have had it in during your time in the army. Even if you had another shirt or two tucked in, it would not be enough to cause you to need a larger belt than where you had it latched." He says as he looks at the man in front of him, releasing the belt to let it hang open from John's hips.

Smirking a little, John nods a little. "Brilliant, Sherlock.. you and your sharp eyes.." he says quietly, sliding his hand up to cup the detective's cheek slowly, thumb stroking across the skin there, feeling slightly amused when the younger man turns his head into the touch and rubs his cheek against John's palm gently.

"Come on, Sherlock. Lets get that shower before there's no more water left."

* * *

**Ok.. um.. Whoa. This started out in my head a completely different way, and ended up being, well... HAWT. At least to me. Thankfully I have New Year's off, so I won't leave you all hanging for too long. ;) I might even throw a bit of Lestrade into the next chapter. Afterall, he has to find out about these two still.**

**I did notice that I'm having them showering an awful lot, and I have no idea why. x.x Unless I'm subconsciously working myself up to some smut. I'm still on the fence about writing/posting that.**

**ANYWAY, I hope you all enjoyed this chapter, and have a Happy New Year!**

**Reviews/Comments welcome!**


	8. Chapter 8

Keeping up with the 'soldier' theme of the day, John keeps his dog tags on in the shower, smirking a little at the slightly surprised look Sherlock gives. "This is what soldiers do, Sherlock. Not even the showers are safe, what would happen if your camp was bombed while you were in the shower, and you took your tags off? Your body might never be identified." He says simply as he watches the man with a little smile as he washes up, pulling the man down for a wet kiss before letting him under the still-hot water. "Thank you for the massage last night, by the way. I felt bloody fantastic when I got up this morning. My shoulder hasn't felt this loose for years." He admits, rolling his left shoulder slowly as he looks at the madman in front of him. And since Sherlock has his back to him, he takes a moment to admire that smooth expanse of skin, from his strong calves and thighs, honed from years of running after London's criminals, to a pert bum and then a long, lean back, a slight valley over his spine in between the muscles.

Not able to resist, John runs his finger down the detectives' back right along his spine, fascinated when he hears a small intake of break and his back arches a little. Making a note of that, John lets his hand fall away, leaning forward and placing a soft kiss between his shoulder blades. "I'm getting out." He says before he does just that, drying off and securing the towel around his waist before he laughs softly, noticing that now his shaving cream and razor has made its way into Sherlock's bathroom. Must have happened while he was at work the day before.

"How much of my stuff have you moved down, Sherlock?" John asks over the water, waiting until it shuts off to turn it on at the sink, slathering up his face and then starting to shave slowly as he vaguely notices Sherlock getting out of the shower and drying himself off.

Sherlock ducks his head a little as he rubs the towel over his hair, stalling for time when it comes to the question. "Just a few things to make it more convenient." he says casually, peeking out from under the towel. "Not good?" he asks cautiously, testing the waters.

"It's fine, Sherlock. It's all fine." John says quietly as he looks at the man in the mirror, finishing shaving with quick efficiency before he rinses off his face. "That does not give you blanket permission to bring everything of mine down here." he warns after a moment, turning to lean back against the sink. "You could have asked though, rather than trying to be all sneaky about it." He says quietly with a little shake of his head.

"I thought you might object less if I didn't ask. It's easier to ask forgiveness than permission, especially with you." Sherlock admits sheepishly as he puts the towel around his waist, then goes out to collect clothes from his bedroom.

"Especially with me? No, wait, I don't really care what that means." John decides, shaking his head as he dresses again. "I'm going to go get my shirt from upstairs." he says quietly, not sure why he feels the need to inform Sherlock of that.

When John walks out with a long, confident stride Sherlock can't do anything but stare. The simple act of putting John back into his fatigues seems to make a much bigger difference than he ever would have guessed. Perhaps that, combined with the fact that he apparently woke up feeling very good this morning. Sherlock quickly resolves to keep his doctor in such a good mood today, or at the very least do what he can to ensure the older man wakes up like this every day. He's happy, playful, and a bit more blatantly sexual which is intriguing. Of course, Sherlock decides, it could have something to do with the fatigues, reminding him of his time in the army which is still mostly male. Surely during John's time in the army he found himself attracted to one or more of the people he served with. Not to mention soldiers are known for being much more raunchy, perhaps because of their time in isolation from society and the lack of sexual partners. Sherlock lacks facts, and the doctor hates making assumptions without all the facts. So, he'll just have to continue observing John like he planned in the first place.

Finally dressed and feeling more confident, Sherlock steps out of the bedroom, only to be confronted by the sight of John again, this time having a tan t-shirt on which is rather snug on him, tucked into his fatigues, tags resting along the outside. Admiring his flatmate for a moment, the lanky detective quietly moves up behind where John is waiting for the kettle to boil. "I quite enjoy having you dressed like this, John. It suits you." he decides, kissing the back of his head lightly.

Chuckling a little to himself, John shakes his head a little. "I never would have thought something like this would appeal to you, Sherlock. Though I guess I should have. You're attracted to danger, to the adrenaline rush as much as I am. Bloody Hell, you're attracted to me, and you know I'm not exactly meek." he says as he glances back at the taller man, starting to make the tea once the kettle clicks off. "An experienced soldier, that fairly screams danger, doesn't it, Sherlock?" He asks, fixing the tea before he finally turns, handing his flatmate his tea before leaning his hips on the counter, crossing one ankle over the other as he sips his tea.

Sherlock smirks a little as he takes his tea. "Perhaps." He says thoughtfully as he watches John, looking him over slowly, trying to imagine what he must have been like in the medical tents. Fighting for people's lives every day, but there must have been times where he also had to treat minor injuries, and in those times the detective can imagine John joking around with his patients as he treats them, putting them at ease. For a moment he lets himself marvel that this man, this soldier, this doctor, this study in contradictions. The man that was looking for a flatmate, turned down his brother's bribes, shot a man to protect Sherlock, and came running at the mention of danger. Not to mention he puts up with the detective's antics on a daily basis. He knows he's not an easy man to live with, but despite all that, despite making the man angry with him on a near daily basis, the doctor has accepted a relationship with the detective.

Feeling a little overwhelmed, Sherlock realizes that his tea is gone, and he looks over the compact Captain in front of him before he leans in and gives him a kiss full of emotion, clinging to him briefly before he pulls back.

A little startled by the sudden kiss, John puts his cup aside and looks up at Sherlock. "What is it, Sherlock?" he asks softly, since that was an unusual burst of emotion.

"Thank you, John. For everything." Sherlock says with a soft smile, giving him another soft kiss, before he lifts up the tags again. "Such a simple thing makes such a big change.." He mumbles thoughtfully to himself.

Understanding, John just nods a little. "Go on, sit down, I'll make you some toast." He says as he pushes Sherlock away from him a little, turning the taller man to nudge him toward the kitchen table, the tags clinking lightly against his chest when they fall back into place.

Sherlock just shakes his head a little. "Not hungry." He says before he steps over to the table, fiddling with some experiments to see if they're worth continuing, and throwing away some of them since he is either finished or no longer interested.

Nope, John is not going to allow this to happen today, despite that Sherlock willingly ate last night. So when he gets the toast ready, he looks at Sherlock and decides to try something. "Sherlock Holmes. Sit." He barks the order out sharply as he looks at the young man.

Startled by the sudden sharp voice from his flatmate, Sherlock obediently sits down, staring at John for a few moments, before he looks down at the toast put down in front of him, slightly dazed as he tries to analyze that voice and his reaction to it.

"Eat." John orders, bringing over another cup of tea for them both before he sits down across from Sherlock to eat some of his own toast.

Not sure that he wants to argue against John, Sherlock picks up the piece of toast, glancing at John and then eating slowly, trying to determine by John's face as to when he will be allowed to stop, but he manages to eat the entire piece of the toast.

John nods a little in approval when Sherlock finishes the food, finishing his own toast. "Good. Now go call Lestrade, see if we have to go in for our statements today." he says in a firm tone of voice, not looking at the detective, assuming his orders will be obeyed.

Unused to this side of his doctor, Sherlock wordlessly gets up and grabs his phone, surprised at his own willingness to obey, but he picks up the phone to call Lestrade.

"John wishes to know if we must come in today to make our statements about the case." he says after Lestrade picks up.

Obviously surprised by the call, and the question, Lestrade nods a little. "Yeah, that'd be great actually." He says, wary. "Come in 'round noon, we'll get it all sorted."

"Yes. We will see you then." Sherlock says simply before he hangs up, looking over at John for approval.

* * *

**I hope you all are having a safe and happy New Year!**

**Not happy with the ending of this chapter, but sort of zoned out on it. Anyway, it helps me move on to the next scene, with Lestrade! Hopefully have that up later today but I seem to have caught some sort of bug, so I don't know.**

**Thank you everyone for reading so far.**

**Comments/reviews welcome!**


	9. Chapter 9

John remains looking at the paper at the table, listening to Sherlock make the phone call. He's actually trying to hide his shock. He wasn't sure if he'd be able to pull Captain Watson up again after all this time, but it seems it's like riding a bike. What's even more shocking is how easily Sherlock obeyed. Begging and persuading has never had any effect on the detective, but apparently ordering him works like a charm. Of course, it may just be a fluke, he may just have confused and surprised Sherlock enough that he obeyed, and it may never work again. Still, it's worth finding out.

When he hears Sherlock hang up the phone, John waits a few moments before he casually looks up, trying not to smirk at the fact that Sherlock is staring right at him as if waiting for approval. "What time do we have to be in?" He asks casually, but with a firm tone to his voice, slowly getting up and bringing his dishes to the sink, every movement speaking of authority and power as he turns to step toward the younger man.

Intimidated is not quite the word that Sherlock would use to describe himself right now. He's not afraid of John, on the contrary he finds Captain Watson to be quite electrifying, all of his nerves on edge, his mind sharper than ever as he focuses on the different in his lover - well, almost - stance, his voice, the look on his face. The cuddly doctor is suppressed beneath the boot of this soldier. There is some part of him though that wants to give up control to this soldier, for a little while. He stays still as John approaches him, not feeling like he could move even if he wanted to. "Noon." He finally answers as he faces the expectant look of the small Captain in front of him.

Watching his detective closely as he approaches, John inwardly smirks when he finally gets a response. It's interesting that he can see that brilliant mind working, trying to figure out just what's going on, and how he's lost his control. But John isn't about to let him have too much time to figure it out. Once he gets his answer, he nods firmly and reaches up to pull Sherlock down, giving him a firm kiss, not giving him too much time to gain his footing and become more demanding before he pulls back, giving him a small smirk. "Well, that gives us a few hours, then. Go on, go find something to occupy yourself with that doesn't include dangerous chemicals." He says in a firm tone before he turns and goes to the couch, picking up his book and putting his feet up on the coffee table.

For once feeling at a bit of a loss, Sherlock figures out he needs something to do with his hand, and since John likes his music so much, he goes over to his violin, tuning it quietly and putting some more resin on his bow before he starts a quiet song, one that he knows John especially likes. This goes on for an hour or so while John reads, but finally, Sherlock can't find any answers, and that upsets him. Finishing out his song, he sighs and puts his violin aside, then he walks over to the couch. "John?" He asks as he slowly sits down, waiting until the soldier looks up from his book, before he leans over, pulling his feet up on the couch and putting his head down in John's lap. "I don't understand." he says quietly with a small sigh, sounding a little resentful about this fact.

Suddenly finding himself with a lap full of detective, John chuckles a little, putting his book aside and reaching out to stroke his hand over Sherlock's hair gently, sliding his fingers through those soft locks. "What don't you understand?" he asks gently, deciding to take pity on his confused detective and not make any more demands of him just yet.

Shifting into a more comfortable position, Sherlock takes a deep breath. "I don't like not being in control." He admits slowly. "But I don't mind giving control over to you. I want you to be pleased with me. I don't like it when you're upset with me, John." he says slowly as he tries to work through his thoughts.

John just nods a little, soothing his hand through Sherlock's hair still. "I'm not just anyone, Sherlock. We've been through a lot together. You trust me to keep you safe, to protect you. You trust me not to hurt you." he explains in a patient voice. "You know what I'm capable of. I think sometimes your brilliant mind might just need to give up control to someone else and switch off for a little while. Didn't you tell me once that your mind is always working, like a rocket stuck on its launch pad?" he asks as he watches him.

When he feels Sherlock nodding against his leg, John nods quietly. "I am beginning to think those engines sometimes need to shut off. Giving someone else control for a little while might be a good way to do that, but you've never trusted anyone enough. Until me. And of course it helps that I was a soldier, I know how to give orders." He says before he smirks a little. "Relax, Sherlock. Let me take care of you." He says softly, still caressing his hair slowly as he looks at the man.

"Yes, John." Sherlock says almost obediently, closing his eyes and relaxing his body, knowing that he's safe with his Doctor, with his army Captain, and that he doesn't have to be afraid of giving over control to him. It's something interesting for his mind to consider. John is right, the detective trusts him more than anyone else in his life. When they're chasing after criminals, he knows that the doctor is there and will watch his back, keep him from being too reckless.

Letting him rest for a few more moments and letting the brilliant mind of his detective work for a few more minutes, John finally nudging Sherlock's head. "Get up." he says firmly. "We have to leave in a few minutes to see Lestrade." he says quietly, smoothing down Sherlock's hair before the detective sits up. "I'll be right back." he says, needing to change out of his fatigues.

"Keep the tags on?" Sherlock asks hopefully as he lifts a hand to touch them gently.

Chuckling a little, John nods quietly. "Alright." He agrees with a small nod of his head, going upstairs and changing into a similar t-shirt, leaving one of his button-up shirts open over it, tags visible resting against his shirt, and he finds a pair of dark jeans that maybe a little snugger than he's use to, slipping them on, and then his boots before he returns downstairs, finding Sherlock waiting for him with the doctor's jacket in hand.

When John comes down, Sherlock looks him over slowly, not realizing his hair is still mussed a bit from John, just holding the older man's jacket out to him, helping him slide into it. "Is this what you might have looked like when you were on leave, John?" He asks softly as he looks the man over.

"Sometimes." John admits with a nod of his head, smirking a little. "I thought you would appreciate it. Keep with the soldier theme for today." he says as he adjusts his jacket, looking up at the detective as he zips it up.

Sherlock nods quietly as he looks at John, filing away that information. "Come on, John. Lets get this over with." he finally says before he sweeps out of the door and downstairs, throwing his arm up at the curb to summon a cab as only Sherlock can apparently do.

"Taxi!"

* * *

**Well, I might have to keep BAMF soldier John around for a while longer, everyone seems to really like him. And apparently Sherlock doesn't mind taking orders from his little soldier. How will this effect them in public, though? It is something John can do without telling anyone they're dating. Hmmm.**

**Sorry it's taking so long to get to Lestrade like I promised, John and Sherlock have other ideas and just wouldn't leave the bloody flat. But seriously, honestly. Lestrade in the next chapter. Maybe more BAMF-y John.**

**Thank you all for your lovely reviews! Remember, let me know if there's anything you'd like to see and I'll try to work it in.**

**Reviews/Comments welcome!**


	10. Chapter 10

The ride to Scotland yard is relatively silent, either man having much to say, though John for his part is mostly focusing on how he can help Sherlock, and how he can take advantage of the fact that Sherlock is quite enjoying the soldier side of John. He's suddenly very glad that he agreed to this particular experiment. It's been very interesting seeing how Sherlock responds to it, and he's found out something about himself as much as he found out things about Sherlock.

When they arrive at the yard, Sherlock is already hopping out of the cab when John's sharp voice stops him. "Sherlock." He says in his firm tone, paying for the cab before he walks over to the detective, who had turned to look at him, both a little surprised, and also questioning. "Stop running off and leaving me behind." He says firmly as he watches Sherlock, not raising his voice much so it's not like he's shouting at the detective, but his voice doesn't have any less authority to it.

Hesitating for a few moments, Sherlock finally just nods slowly. "I'm sorry, John." He says as if he never realized he was running off without his shorter flatmate, waiting a beat more before he turns and heads toward the building at a more sedate pace, making sure that John can keep up.

Smirking to himself, John follows, nodding to the guard as they walk past him to the elevator, stepping inside. He takes in his flatmates somewhat ruffled appearance and tries not to laugh, wondering what Lestrade will think, especially since glimpses of the hickie can still be seen when Sherlock turns his head. The Detective Inspector was rather curious about the 'mystery lady' at the crime scene, afterall.

When they get off the elevator, it seems most of the people in Homicide have heard about the incident with Anderson because they are either watching John warily, or with a newfound respect, which is a little bit of an ego boost for the doctor.

Luckily Lestrade is in his office, and he looks up when the two enter, smiling. "Right on time. Blimey, has hell frozen over?" he jokes as he looks at them, then turns an appraising eye to Sherlock, who is usually nothing less than perfectly put together. "I hope I didn't interrupt anything." He says with a little chuckle.

Startled out of his thoughts by that question, John glances up. Could Greg have already guessed about his and Sherlock's relationship? "Excuse me?" he asks Lestrade as he stares at him for a few moments.

"Sherlock." Lestrade says as if it's obvious, motioning to him. "Yesterday it was the hickie, today he looks like he got a thorough snogging before coming here. Come on, mate. Who's the new lady friend? Course, I shouldn't ask how you've been able to hide it from us. If anyone can hide it it's you." he says with a little self-satisfied grin on his face.

Sherlock lets out a slightly annoyed huff of breath as he glowers lightly at Lestrade. "There is no lady." He finally says, figuring that he should at least set Lestrade on the right gender path even if he can't guess the obvious.

"Oh, a bloke then? No wonder he's possessive, leavin' marks like that. I've seen the way the ladies look at you, Sherlock. Not surprising, I imagine men've got a bit of a thicker skin, will be able to take your criticism a bit better, eh?" Lestrade asks with a little smirk as he watches Sherlock, still seeming rather smug about the whole situation.

Trying not to let that thought settle too much in his mind, and reminding himself that Sherlock chose him out of anyone he could have had, John clasps his hands behind his back in a loose parade rest, taking a deep breath and relaxing slowly with a small smirk as he looks between the two.

Another frustrated and slightly annoyed sigh is given from the lanky detective, before he looks at Lestrade. "Yes, I tend to prefer men, yes a man left the hickie on my neck, and yes he is rather possessive. No, I am not going to give you any more details than that, so could we please get to work?" He partially demands as he glowers in Lestrade's direction. "Unless you would like me to start deducing your love life." He threatens, stuffing his hands into the pocket of his jacket.

Sighing a little John shakes his head, frowning at Sherlock. "Sherlock." He scolds warningly, touching the detective's elbow. "Sit down and write out your statement." he says in a firm tone. "I'm going to go get some coffee." He says before he gives Sherlock a look and turns to go get some coffee. When he comes back, Sherlock appears to be writing out his statement while Lestrade steps just outside the office when he sees John coming back.

"Hey, John. Are you alright? I mean, after yesterday.." Lestrade trails off as he watches the other man closely, having been a little worried.

Chuckling a little as he considers the question, nodding. "Yeah, had to go into work after all that, even though I'm supposed to be off. Probably my worst Boxing Day ever, but I'm alright." John reassures as he watches the Detective Inspector.

Lestrade nods a little, glancing into the office. "Right, good." He hesitates before he smirks. "So come on, dish. What do you know about this bloke that Sherlock's seeing?" he asks with a mischievous grin.

John nearly chokes on his coffee, not because he's surprised but that he is trying hard not to laugh. "I don't know much, Greg. I know that Sherlock really cares about him, but it has only been going on since Christmas Eve, even if they've known eachother for a while." he explains as he watches Lestrade, telling him the truth on all accounts.

Lestrade considers that and he nods a little. "He seems to be in a pretty good mood. Especially for Christmastime. He's always been a bit of a Grinch in the past. I didn't get one text about a case. So whoever the guy is, he must be keeping Sherlock pretty occupied. I always thought Sherlock might loosen up if he got laid." He says thoughtfully as he glances back at Sherlock.

It is a testament to John's extreme mental and emotional control that he does not turn a dark shade of red right there. Because there has been no 'getting laid' yet, and he did keep Sherlock rather occupied over Christmas, interestingly enough. Instead of allowing himself to blush, even if his ears turn a little bit pink against his will, John takes a drink of his coffee to settle himself. "I wouldn't know about that." he says finally.

"But you have met the guy, right?" Lestrade apparently is too curious to just let it go at that. "I mean, you two are best mates, hardly ever see one of you without the other, so you've got to have met him, right?"

Well, in a manner of speaking.. "Yeah, I know him." John says with a little smirk as he watches Lestrade. "I take him out for a pint sometimes." He says casually. And bloody hell, doesn't that make him sound a bit schizophrenic. "He's a good man, or at least he tries to be." he then holds up a hand as he looks at Lestrade to forestall any further questions. "And that is all I'm going to say about it. If Sherlock doesn't want to tell you about him, then I'm not going to either." He decides in a firm tone, not wanting to give too much away and it's starting to get into a strange territory where he tries to tell the truth but not expose too much.

Lestrade nods a little as he looks at John, who he considers to be a friend. "Yeah. I understand, mate. Sorry to put you in an odd position, it's just that.. I've known Sherlock for what.. eight years now, counting the time he was.. gone. And I've never seen him date anyone, or show so much as an interest in someone. Honestly, you're the only one I've ever seen get close to him. For a while we all thought you were dating, no matter what you said." He says with a little chuckle. "How about you, anyone new in your life?" he asks curiously.

John can't help but hide another grin in his coffee cup, amused as he takes a sip of the truly awful drink. "I have just gotten into a relationship." He says vaguely with a little smirk as he thinks about Sherlock, glancing over at the detective for a moment.

"Yeah? That's great, you deserve someone. Must've been hard to see Sherlock with someone.." Lestrade says quietly as he considers. "So..." He waves his hand, wanting details. "You gotta give me something more, mate." he says as he watches John. About the time Sherlock jumped, Lestrade's wife left him for good, so it was not a good year for the Detective Inspector either, and his love life is kind of nonexistent so he has to live through others vicariously.

John gives a low chuckle as he thinks of how to vaguely describe Sherlock. "Dark hair, long legs, arse you just want to grab.. Soft, flawless skin you could touch all day.." he trails off and shakes his head for a few moments. "Bloody gorgeous." he says, glancing over at Sherlock again for a moment, not able to help himself, before he shifts his eyes back to Lestrade. "And that's about as much as I'm going to give you." he says with a little grin. "Don't want to curse the relationship before it's taken off." That, and he is pretty sure that Sherlock can hear them talking about him and to be honest it's not like the other man's ego needs to be inflated any more.

Lestrade is just staring at John now, his mouth open a little. "Bloody hell... How are you able to even get out of bed?" he asks, having a much different thought about those attributes than what John is describing of course. Which is the interesting part about being so vague.

John chuckles a little. "We're not shagging, Greg." he says before he shrugs a little. "Decided to take things kind of slow, but we have spent the night together a few times. Nothing sexual, just sleeping." Well, almost nothing sexual. But that is really not something you should be thinking about in the middle of Scotland Yard.

Shaking his head a little in surprise, Lestrade stares at John. "You have more of an iron will than I do. If I had someone like that, I don't think I would be so noble." He says before he chuckles a little.

Thankfully that is about the time Sherlock finishes with his report, and he gets up, turning to look at the two. "If you two are done gossiping like eighty year old women, I am quite done with my report." He says in his usual cool tones, sliding his hands into the pockets of his jacket.

Gulping down the last sip of the coffee and tossing the cup, John straightens when Sherlock comes out, looking at the detective warily, making sure he's not about to act out or something. "Sherlock." He says in a firm tone, not quite the Captain voice, but not Doctor Watson either. "Talking about your love life with a mate is not a bad thing, Sherlock. You forget that Greg was pretty much my only friend when.. you were gone." he still hesitates over saying it, not wanting to think about those two years.

Sherlock sniffs a little, a little pouty because he's jealous of the thought of John being with someone else, even if he knows the doctor was discussing him, it doesn't mean he likes the idea any better. In fact, he's starting not to like this entire charade. "And you forget that I am not an idiot, John. Perhaps I merely don't enjoy listening to you discuss your love life." he says before he adds. "If you wish to waste more of the Detective Inspector's time, be my guest, it's not as if I need you to escort me back to Baker Street. Honestly, I don't know why you even came, it's not as if you were needed." He says before he turns in a flourish of coat and strides off toward the elevator.

At first confused, and then getting slightly angry, John frowns at the taller man, having no idea where this is coming from. Pinching the bridge of his nose after Sherlock stomps off, he takes a moment to collect himself, then he looks at Lestrade. "I'd better go see why he's in a tizzy. I'll talk to you later, Greg." he says, waving before he hurries off, taking the stairs instead of the elevator since they're quicker.

Unfortunately it's not quick enough because Sherlock is already out of the building. Thankfully he appears to prefer walking, and with a little bit of running and dodging traffic, John catches up to him, grabbing the sleeve of his coat and pulling him into a darkened alley to shove the detective up against the wall. Pinning his arms in place, John stares at Sherlock, a little out of breath. "What the bloody hell was that?!" he demands, definitely back to his Captain's voice now.

Refusing to look at the angry little soldier in front of him, Sherlock has his head turned toward the entrance of the alley instead. "I don't know what you're talking about." he says indifferently, though at least not trying to escape.

Fairly growing at Sherlock, John glares. "Look at me." He orders, waiting as Sherlock responds almost automatically to the order. "Now. Explain to me. What. That. Was." He says in a slightly angry, clipped tone.

That voice apparently finally gets through to the detective, and Sherlock watches John's eyes for a moment. "I didn't like it." he finally admits in a soft tone, lifting one hand to stroke a finger against a portion of the zipper on John's coat.

Relaxing a little but keeping his voice firm, John loosens his hold a little on Sherlock, letting his hands slide down to the detective's waist. "Didn't like what?" he asks as he ducks his head a little in order to catch the taller man's eyes again.

Feeling rather stupid about the whole thing, Sherlock huffs out another annoyed breath. "You. Talking with Lestrade like.. like you were dating someone else." He says with a small frown. "I didn't like it." he says as he looks at John. "I'm not sure I like this game with Lestrade anymore." he says quietly as he sulks and pouts slightly.

Relaxing a little once he finds out what's going on, John sighs, resting his head against Sherlock's shoulder for a moment. "Is that all?" he asks, then he sighs as he slides his hands up to cup both sides of Sherlock's face, making sure the detective is watching him. "I'm yours, Sherlock." He says firmly, sliding one hand down to stroke over the hickie on Sherlock's neck. "And you're mine. No matter what we do or do not tell everyone else, that fact won't change. I'm not ashamed of you, I will tell anyone you want that we're together." He reassures as he looks up at Sherlock. "Bloody hell, if you want me to announce it on my blog, I will." He says, before he pulls the taller man down a little, giving him a firm, possessive kiss, making sure Sherlock knows how much John wants him.

When the kiss breaks, Sherlock takes a deep breath, keeping his head bowed toward his Captain, nodding a little as he reaches out to slide his arms around the other man, lowering his head a little more to nuzzle against his neck a little, placing a few soft kisses there. "I don't want to hide anymore." He decides, placing a soft bite on John's neck, then licking the spot to soothe it, before he places a few soft kisses along John's neck again. They can see the sidewalk and road just fine, but Sherlock knows they're deep enough into the shadows that no one will be able to see them from the road.

At first John just enjoys the attention, closing his eyes for a moment, but he finally pushes Sherlock back from him. "Stop." he says in a firm tone. "Not here." He says with a shake of his head, pinning the taller man against the wall again with hands and body. "Now. To make up for that little hissyfit you threw in Scotland Yard, you are going to come with me to Tesco's, so we can get some proper food in the flat." He says using his Captain's voice, wondering how far he can push it.

Even though it seems to frustrate Sherlock that he's pinned back against the door, when John pulls out that voice, he can't help himself, he just nods a little, looking down into John's eyes, managing to give him a quick peck on the lips.

"As you wish, John. I'm sorry for embarrassing you."

* * *

**This was so fun to write, with John dodging the specifics and Lestrade being oblivious. And of course, Jealous-Sherlock and more of Captain Watson. I have to admit, I am really liking writing Soldier-John. I may yet have another chapter in me, it's flowing really well tonight.**

**What do you all think, how should John and Sherlock reveal themselves to Lestrade?**

**Hope you all enjoy, reviews/comments welcome and encouraged! :)**


	11. Chapter 11

**This chapter is for ne-01 who wanted to see the two go shopping. Hope this lives up to expectations!**

**Hope you all enjoy it, I am now going to go fangirl over the NEW EPISODE! Which I just found online. Squee!**

**Reiews/comments welcome!**

* * *

If he were honest with himself, John would say he was rather shocked that he got Sherlock to agree to do the shopping with him. But he wasn't about to question it, so he nods a little, moving back from Sherlock to let him move away from the wall, straightening Sherlock's coat for a moment before he reaches out and takes Sherlock's hand, leading him out of the alley. "How about we walk?" he offers as he looks at Sherlock, the day somewhat nice and John knows there is a relatively nice Tesco nearby, bigger than the one closer to their flat.

Pleased with the hand holding, Sherlock nods a little. "Very well." he says, feigning indifference, but not really minding as much as he thought he might. Especially since he gets to spend time with John, and John is now holding his hand in public. Maybe it is a juvenile response, but considering how many times John claimed he was 'not gay', the fact that he would do something like that for all the world to see makes Sherlock inordinately happy.

For his part, John smirks a little as he looks over at Sherlock, continuing to walk with him. When they get in front of Tesco's, he pauses outside, taking a deep breath before he looks up at the taller man. "Alright. I have a few things we need, but I want you to think about foods you like and will actually eat. Because so help me, I am going to put some weight on those bones of yours." The tone is still firm, but concerned as he looks the man over slowly. "Can you do that for me?" John asks as he watches the detective closely, wanting to make sure that he isn't lied to.

For a few moments, they lock gazes and there seems to be a battle of wills going on, but finally Sherlock sighs, looking away, and then back slowly. "Yes, John." He says reluctantly, pulling out his phone and starting to tap away on it, apparently intent on finding something, somehow unerringly following John into the store.

Even though he still feels reluctant about this, John heads inside and grabs himself a cart, heading over to the produce section first. He can sense Sherlock following along behind him, hear him tapping away on his phone and wondering what in the world he's doing. He's even more shocked when, one hand still tapping on his phone, he reaches out and puts a few things in the cart. Broccoli, spaghetti squash, tomatoes, and then wandering over to the fruits, picking out strawberries and black cherries.

And now John is starting to regret this because Sherlock doesn't seem to have any concept of how much some of this stuff costs, especially the fruit that's out of season. He sighs a little though, not sure what all this could be used for, though he suspects that the strawberries and cherries are just for eating. And that, John can't question or argue with because Sherlock snacking is even more rare than Sherlock eating regular meals. But when Sherlock grabs a second bag of cherries, he feels the need to say something. "Sherlock..." he begins slowly as he looks at him. "Just.. be careful, alright? We are on sort of a budget here." he notes as he watches him cautiously.

As if coming out of a bit of a trance, Sherlock looks up from his phone and blinks a few times at John, taking in what he's saying and then he gives that little 'I am being clever' smirk that always makes John's heart skip a beat, before he reaches into his jacket. "For emergencies." he says as he deftly pulls a black credit card from his wallet, holding it out to John.

Taking the card warily in order to look it over, John notices that it has the name Mycroft Holmes on it, and he starts chuckling a little, nodding and grinning. "Alright, you win. Mycroft worries about your health so much, surely he can't object to paying for our grocery bill." he says with a smirk, shaking his head as he hands it back to Sherlock, sharing a grin with his mad flatmate. "You really are a madman." he says affectionately before he grabs a few thing he was passing up because they were a bit too expensive, before he continues to follow Sherlock through the store.

"Do we have room in our fridge for all this, and your experiments?" John asks when they're further on in the store, since the detective has been grabbing seemingly random things that the doctor can't seem to connect into a recipe.

"Mmm. yes. I forgot. Your other Christmas present, I might as well just tell you at this point so you won't worry about it. I got a small fridge to keep all my experiments in, or at least most of them. It even has a small freezer, but of course anything that's over a certain size will still have to share our main refrigerator." Sherlock says casually as he goes back to tapping away on his phone.

That causes John to stop in his tracks, staring open-mouthed at the mad genius in front of him. "You. Bought a fridge. For your experiments." he says each statement carefully to make sure that he's understanding the other man correctly.

And there's that owlish look again as Sherlock looks up at John as if he just grew another head. "Yes. I did just say that, John. Is your hearing alright?" he asks in his usual derogatory tone.

"Sherlock." John says in a warning tone as he looks at him, some of the fuzzy feelings gone, trying to let the taller man know the doctor is not above taking him down a few notches right here in the middle of Tesco's.

Seeing the change in the soldier's stance and demeanor, Sherlock hesitates, then looks repentant, even if he doesn't outright apologize. "You always complain about my experiments in the fridge. I thought you would be pleased." He admits with a little insecurity in his tone.

Satisfied that his warning got through to Sherlock, John smiles softly. "I am pleased, Sherlock. That is definitely one of the most thoughtful things you have ever done for me." he says, glancing around for a moment before crooking his finger at Sherlock, rather than dragging him down to his level.

Sherlock smiles as he looks at his flatmate, also glancing around since neither of them are much for PDA, but seeing as they're in a deserted aisle, he leans down and gives the soldier what he wants: a soft, brief kiss. Straightening, he clears his throat a little. "Come on, let's finish this up." He says before he goes back to his phone and leads John through the rest of the store.

It's a good thing that they got lots of non-perishable things because the bill actually ends up being quite high. "Blimey, I hope you've got cash on you, Sherlock, we're definitely going to need a cab." John says as he sees the amount of bags they have, packed to optimum efficiency by Sherlock of course.

Looking over at the older man who has become such an important part of his life, Sherlock smiles softly and he nods. "Of course." he says casually, shrugging as he carries some of the bags out to the curb, raising his hand and as always, getting a cab to immediately pull over.

"I wish I knew how you did that.." John mutters as he watches Sherlock, getting into the cab with the bags, and then he looks at his detective. "Now will you tell me what you were doing on your phone this entire time?" he asks, arching an eyebrow.

A little surprised since he was sure that John had figured it out by then, Sherlock smirks a little and scoots just a bit closer to John on the seat so he can turn his phone toward John with a little smile.

"Recipes, John. How else am I to know what quantities of ingredients go into foods I like?"


	12. Chapter 12

Back at the flat, they bring the groceries upstairs and place them all in the kitchen. When it looks like Sherlock is going to try and escape, John glances over at him. "Where do you think you're going?" He asks as he removes his jacket and hangs it up.

Surprised at the question, Sherlock glances at John. "I thought I had better get out of the way. You have a very particular way you like to organize the kitchen and you don't like it when I rearrange things. Instead of getting in your way, I intended to print off these recipes that I found, since I highly doubt you already know how to cook them. You clearly only memorized a handful of recipes that are easy and inexpensive to make." He says simply as he continues on his way into the sitting room.

Letting that slide for now, John shakes his head and starts to unpack. "How about you go get that mini fridge out of wherever you were hiding it, as well, hm?" He says as he sees the latest parts in the fridge, shaking his head as he rearranges carefully in order to keep eating food away from everything else. When he's finished, he turns to make himself some tea, just in time for Sherlock to roll out a waist-high (on him) fridge.

The fridge is a silver color though not stainless steel, the better to blend in with the other fridge. Carefully, Sherlock places it beside the other fridge, making sure there is enough room for it to be opened, and he plugs it in, "There. It will need some time to cool off before I can move my experiments over." he says as he adjusts the dial a little to get the proper temperature, then he waltzes off to the sitting room, bringing back a sheet of paper from the printer. "Given the ingredients we bought, I thought this might be an appropriate choice for dinner." He offers as he looks at the recipe, then back at John.

Watching the detective with a slightly amused expression, John leans against the counter, sipping his tea, then holding out a cup to Sherlock to trade him with the recipe. "Hm. Broccoli and cheese soup?" he asks, then he smirks. "That explains the bread. Soup bowls." he says with a nod of his head, before he looks over the recipe, not familiar with it, and it's more complicated than he would have thought. "I can try, Sherlock. You'll eat it?" he asks firmly as he looks up at Sherlock.

"Yes, John, that was rather the idea of me choosing recipes, things that I will eat without you having to force it down my throat." Sherlock says dryly as he looks at John, taking a sip of the tea gratefully.

"Well, at least when you're eating it keeps that smart mouth of yours occupied." John says somewhat sharply as he looks up at Sherlock, then he starts to get the ingredients out, only to frown at the counter.

A little surprised at the comment, Sherlock goes over to help clear off the counter, actually quite looking forward to this dinner, and he has to admit he is plotting a little because he hopes to convince John to have a proper snogging session afterwards, but that might take a little buttering up first. And he is trying to be more agreeable, at least for the holidays because he knows he won't be able to maintain it for long.

A small smirk is given to Sherlock as John puts stuff down on the counter the lanky detective cleared. "You know, if you keep acting kind, I'm going to wonder who you are and what you did with my consulting detective." He says as he puts things down in a certain order before he manages to trap the edges of the recipe between two cabinet doors, holding it in place Slowly, he turns to look at Sherlock, eyes roaming from head to toe and back up again slowly.

For some reason, the look that John gives him just then makes Sherlock flush a little, but he refuses to start acting like a teenager when he is a genius, and very confident in himself and his body. So he merely takes a step closer to John, looking down into this blue eyes. "Well, we wouldn't want you to do that." he says quietly as he watches the doctor. "Do you see something you like, Doctor Watson?" The detective asks coolly as he slides his hands into his trouser pockets.

Right now, this moment, John really wishes that Sherlock were still wearing a scarf because it would give him something to grab the detective by. Instead, he looks him over again. "Oh yes." he says in a lower voice, looking Sherlock over again. "Besides being a bloody good kisser, you are absolutely delectable." He says before he reaches out, grabbing Sherlock by his lapels and pulling him closer, moving his lips close to the detective's to run his tongue along those perfect cupid bow lips, before capturing those lips in a deep kiss, nibbling on his lower lip and then thoroughly ravishing the man's mouth with his lips, teeth and tongue, one hand sliding up into this curls and tightening his fist in them, possibly a bit painfully but it seems Sherlock doesn't mind. The other hand wanders down and around Sherlock's waist, deciding to push things a bit farther and letting his hand slide down so he can grab that round arse.

Sometimes when he pushes buttons, Sherlock does not quite expect the response he gets, and this is one of those cases where he is surprised. Then again he really shouldn't be since it's John, and the doctor has always been surprising him. Of course, that doesn't keep him from responding to the kiss, battling him for dominance for a few moments before he gives up and gives in to his soldier, his hands sliding around the older man's body. A slightly undignified noise of surprise might have slipped from the Detective's throat when he feels that strong hand on his bum, but he will deny it if ever asked about it.

Unfortunately the kiss doesn't last as long as the detective wants it to, but it never does and that is why he wants the proper snogging session. It lasts just long enough for Sherlock to really get into it before John always pulls away, and that's what happens now. A small whine is pulled from the younger man's throat when John pulls back, attempting to follow the older man's lips to keep him from getting away, but a firm hand in his hair jerks his head back a little

"Uh-uh-uh." John tsks softly as he looks at Sherlock. "You are going to find something to occupy yourself, I am going to make dinner, then we are going to sit down in front of the tellie and eat. Alright?" he asks as he looks at Sherlock, though the tone he uses implies that there is only one correct answer to that question.

Disappointed and a little frustrated, Sherlock lets out a small growl of annoyance before he sighs, knowing that snapping and being grumpy will get him nowhere, so he merely nods a little, "Yes, Captain." he purrs, carefully leaning down, knowing that he only can achieve this because John lets him, and he nuzzles against the doctor affectionately for a moment, before kissing his cheek softly. "I'll check my website, hopefully there's a case we can work on tomorrow." he says before he smiles, moving away from the little soldier, waiting until he's released before he turns to head back to the sitting room.

Sherlock is not the only one who is frustrated, and as much as John might have wanted to take things farther just now, he knows that they need this time. It's only been three days since they became a couple and the doctor is still trying to come to terms with it on some level. Mostly he's enjoying it and of course he likes it and wants it, but being with a man is a totally foreign thing to him. He's never been with a man before and he still needs a little time to prepare himself for that before they get into anything too hot and heavy. Though his body is way ahead of his mind. His body has absolutely no qualms about the fact that Sherlock is a man. It has needs and it knows those needs can be met by Sherlock. Thankfully, John has more control over his body than that. With a final shake of his head and a deep breath to clear his mind, John turns the counter, getting out some pots and pans before he starts the soup, frowning as he tries to follow the recipe.

Moving back into the sitting room, Sherlock does a few laps around the room, just to work out the adrenaline rush from the kiss and everything, before he feels composed enough to sit down at the desk with his laptop, avoiding looking at his flatmate in order to keep his mind clear. He finds John rather distracting like this, but he realizes it's just because it's new stimuli, it's a way that he's never seen his soldier before and it will take a day or so to get used to it. Nothing that Sherlock can't handle. With that in mind, he goes to his website, looking to see if there are any new, interesting clients, checking John's blog as well.

Though it takes a few hours, John finally gets the soup made, some rather delicious smells coming from the kitchen, before he take s the two small loaves of bread that are appropriate for soup bowls, cutting the tops off and putting them on plates before he digs out the inside. "Dinner is ready, Sherlock." John calls back into the sitting room before he ladles soup into each of the makeshift bowls, smirking a little as he considers, then shrugs and gets down a bottle of wine that someone gave them months ago, examining it before he gets out glasses and pours them each a glass, "Clean off the coffee table, would you, love?" he calls into the sitting room, not even realizing he uses the affectionate term.

And of course the consulting detective doesn't miss anything, especially anything as blatant at that. The term of endearment catches him off-guard, making him pause before he clears off the coffee table and then walks into the kitchen. "You just called me 'love'." he states as he watches John.

Startled at the thought, the smaller man considers, going over what he just said, then he nods. "Apparently I did." He says as he looks at Sherlock, then borrows a well-loved phrase of the detective's. "Problem?" He challenges with a small smirk.

Sherlock chuckles softly as John steals his phrase. "No. I just wanted to be sure you were aware of it." he says as he watches the other man for a moment, before he takes the wine with an arched eyebrow and sips it slowly before he grabs his soup and heads over to the couch, sitting his food down on the coffee table, before he pushes it out a little and sits on the floor instead.

"Oh, you're going to be the death of me.. I'm not 20 anymore, Sherlock.." John says as he joins Sherlock on the floor, groaning a little. Maybe a little overreaction, but he's feeling playful. He arranges himself comfortably before he starts to eat slowly, surprised that the soup came out rather good.

Making a small sound of disagreement in his throat, Sherlock glances at John. "You enjoy playing up your age, John. You are in better shape than most 20 year olds, and you are still a very virile man in his prime." He says with a little smirk as he looks at John. "Unless you're trying to guilt me into giving you another massage. Which I don't think I will allow. No need to become reliant on me. If your back bothers you that much you should see a chiropractor." He says simply, trying some of his soup and hmming happily. "This is very good, John." He says with a small nod of his head before he goes about eating.

John snorts a little and then smirks at Sherlock. "You're a cruel man, Sherlock." he says with an exasperated tone, but he smirks a little at his partner as he eats. "I just followed the recipe, but thank you. I'll try anything once if it will get you to eat without complaint." he says with a slight smirk, taking a sip of his wine before he leans over to nuzzle Sherlock's neck lightly. "You have no idea how happy it makes me to see you voluntarily eating, love." He says quietly, placing a soft kiss there before he goes back to his food.

"There are certain things I don't mind eating, but I can't promise I will eat during cases." Sherlock finally says as he looks at his meal, still eating and sipping his wine slowly, shifting until his shoulder brushes against John's.

Reaching out, John grabs the remote and turns on the tellie, changing it to something idiotic that he knows Sherlock won't be able to resist yelling at, finding it quite amusing when he does that, and he wants a bit of normalcy right now.

As normal as it ever gets at 221B Baker Street, anyway.

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**Thank you all for your wonderful reviews! I love seeing them, and knowing what you guys think. Soldier!John has lasted longer than I had planned because I got such wonderful reviews about him. Plus he turned out to be ridiculously fun to write.**

**I am trying to think of another case for them to pick up, maybe something more complicated. Is there anything anyone would like to see?**

**Reviews/comments make me happy and are most welcome!**


	13. Chapter 13

**This chapter is for two of my wonderful reviewers, ne-01 and Duochanfan. They both gave me ideas that fit well together, so here you go! I hope it's everything you wanted!**

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Saying 'tis the season' usually means something along the lines of Christmas decorations, or good cheer or something of that sort. Unfortunately people tend to lose their heads a little bit around the holidays and while that leads to an increase in suicides, it also apparently means that there is an increase in homicides. Of course, that's not a good thing in general, but Sherlock considers it to be good news because it means he won't be bored.

It's two days before they get another case, John not even bothering to write up the one about the aneurysm, besides making a quick note about the oddness of it. Things have fallen back into a routine, with one or two exceptions. More touching and kissing being one of the big differences from before Christmas, and of course sharing the bed. John hasn't had any more nightmares since Christmas Eve and Christmas night, which of course Sherlock attributes to his presence. Or at least the presence of a warm body that John holds affection for.

But there are other things as well that have changed. At Sherlock's request, John has continued to wear his tags, and though he takes them off to shower, that's the only time. Even though the doctor objected to wearing them to bed, afraid that they might twist around his neck. Sherlock reassured John that if he's in bed with the doctor, which he always is whether he's sleeping or not, he will not let his little soldier strangle himself.

And though he's started wearing his tags again, John has not changed his wardrobe entirely. Though he does like the way Sherlock looks at him when he wears more snug jeans, and at home he wears clothes that fit a bit better. But when he goes out, he always ends up pulling on a jumper, explaining that after all his time in Afghanistan, he's still not gotten used to London's damp, cool weather, and if his shoulder gets cold for too long it gets stiff and painful, and that's not really a fun feeling. Despite the fact that he now has Sherlock's magic fingers to work out any stiffness if he needs it.

Besides sharing showers and a few snogging sessions, they haven't taken the physicality of their relationship any farther either. One morning they probably laid around for a good hour just snuggling and exchanging soft, lazy kisses, a more gentle, curious exploration of lips and tongues to see what the other likes, and what way they prefer to kiss together. It's something that John at least hasn't been able to do for years. He always has been a fan of early morning affection, or a good morning shag, but Sherlock and he aren't quite to that point yet.

Unfortunately one of the snogging sessions got a little more intense, ending up with John in Sherlock's lap since he's the shorter of the two, straddling his legs on the couch. Their bodies pressed together, the older man takes his kisses to that delectable expanse of skin of the detective's unblemished skin. Unfortunately he manages to find a spot that Sherlock quite likes because he lavishes attention there for a bit too long, creating another bruise that blooms brilliantly on Sherlock's skin the next morning.

John doesn't come out unscathed from that session either, having his own marks from Sherlock's rather skilled mouth, but they can more easily be hidden by his normal shirts and jumpers, only the very edge of one visible when he's wearing one of his button-ups. Naturally, the next day is when Sherlock gets his case, and he gives no thought to anything else before he grabs his coat and scarf and they're off again, heading to Scotland Yard this time since Lestrade said they think it's a serial murderer. But since the two murders were months apart, they just made the connection.

When they arrive at Scotland Yard, it's business as usual, most of the people back from their Christmas Holidays by now, which unfortunately also means Donovan. And while Anderson is also back on the job, he was deliberately sent out to do something which is a rather menial task, but it gets him out so that there won't be another incident.

Of course, there's still Donovan. She never changed her feelings about Sherlock, still thinking he must have been faking it somehow or that he's really a murderer. The fact that everyone embraced him again after everything that happened just pissed her off even more, so she hates Sherlock more now than ever. "Oi, Freak. Have a fight with a vacuum, or did you finally find someone pathetic enough to shag you?" She challenges, crossing her arms over her chest.

While Sherlock seems to be unaffected by Donovan's comments, only his doctor can see the flicker of insecurity in his eyes before he glances at John. "Well, Sergeant Donovan, have Anderson's injuries kept him from performing?" he asks with an arched eyebrow as he looks her over.

John is getting increasingly agitated, rather sick of Donovan's attitude, but no matter how much he may get angry, he won't hit a woman, not out of anger. Damn his chivalrous nature.

Donovan sneers at Sherlock. "What would you know, Freak?" She snaps. "You're a psychopath, a freak of nature. What would you know about relationships, and being close to someone? No one could love you." She says angrily, lashing out because of her own insecurities of course but it doesn't make the words any less hurtful.

"That is ENOUGH!" John says forcefully, slamming his fist down on the nearest desk, startling the people around them, even making Donovan stare at him in shock.

Taking a moment to compose himself, John purses his lips and takes a few quick breaths before he straightens and steps up closer to Donovan. "I have had it, with your attitude. From what I've seen, he has done nothing to warrant your verbal attacks on him every time you see him. You know NOTHING about him. NOTHING." he says in a firm tone, using his Captain's voice and stance, which intimidates even Donovan. "It is unprofessional of you to constantly attack Sherlock, normally when you have the largest audience. If you haven't noticed, no one here agrees with your twisted point of view." He says before he takes a step closer so he is toe-to-toe with her, his hands balled into fists at his side. "Sherlock is more of a human being than you EVER will be. You don't even have enough self-respect to seek a worthwhile relationship, you have to sink to the level of sleeping with a married man. And judging from the rug burn on your knees, you demean yourself more with him than merely by shagging him." The doctor doesn't pull any punches. "You can hardly comment on anyone's love life."

There's a pause as the soldier lets that all sink in for Donovan before he continues. "As for Sherlock? He should be sainted for putting up with you and Anderson. He takes your abuse every time, even though he comes with the sole purpose of helping you. He is invited, by your boss. He is brilliant, smarter than ten of you, Donovan." he says as he looks Donovan over in a way that lets her know just how little he thinks of her. "How you manage to keep your job with your unprofessionalism is beyond me." And then he slowly looks over at Sherlock for a moment. "As for Sherlock and relationships? I'm the first one to acknowledge that he's not easy to live with. He's eccentric, and frustrating. But you don't know that he can also be so kind, thoughtful and caring for those who are lucky enough to be accepted by him." He says before he takes a deep breath and moves away from Donovan, stepping back over to Sherlock's side. "He is the best man I have ever known. You want to know how he got that mark on his neck?" John asks before a wolfish, predatory grin spreads over his face. "I gave it to him." And with that, he takes Sherlock's hand in his, tugging him toward Lestrade's office. The bullpen is completely silent for a few moments, Donovan looking a little shell shocked, before there's a little applause, some whistles and at least one 'It's about time!' coming from the others.

Ducking into Lestrade's office, John waits until everyone is inside before he closes the door firmly, taking a slow, deep breath, before he finds himself suddenly dragged to the taller detective, being given a firm, deep kiss which only lasts for a few moments before Sherlock breaks away.

"Thank you." Sherlock whispers, staring at John in surprise. Throughout the entire dressing-down of Donovan, the lanky detective couldn't help but just stare at John, admiring him, humbled by the doctor's defense of his person. He's never had anyone come to his defense like that before, and it was shocking for the detective to witness. So of course when they're in Lestrade's office he does the first thing he can think of to show his appreciation, and that is to kiss John. They are on a case, so the 'no affection' rule is in place unless Sherlock initiates it, which is why he does.

Lestrade is just spluttering a little in shock as he looks between them. "You two?" he finally says, pointing at one and then the other. "So when you were telling me the things before, you were just pulling my leg?" There's disbelief in his tone and a little disappointment that the two didn't feel they could tell him.

Blushing a little under the scrutiny and from Sherlock's kiss, John clears his throat a little. "Well, we didn't tell you any lies, Lestrade. It did start at Christmas so it's new to us.. We were going to see how long it would take you to figure it out, but.. I couldn't let Donovan's attitude pass anymore." he says in a firm tone, looking up at Sherlock. "And I am not ashamed of being with Sherlock." He says simply.

For his part, the man in question is already focused on the board where the pictures from the crime scene are, palms pressed together in front of his face in his classic 'thinking pose', mercurial eyes glancing all over the board.

A glance is given to Sherlock before Lestrade nods a little. "I just didn't realize you were bisexual, John." he says with a slight smirk. "Guess you didn't outright lie now that I think about it. Bloody hell." He mutters, rubbing his hand over his hair, chuckling a little. "Well, I'm happy for you both, it obviously suits you." he says with a little smirk.

Clearing his throat, John looks down at his feet for a moment as he shuffles in place. "I'm not, Greg. Sherlock's the exception it seems. He's always the exception." he says with an affectionate smile over at the younger man.

"Are you two quite done?" Sherlock asks without turning away from the board, looking it over. "Definitely a serial murderer. But not working alone. This is obviously some sort of organized crime activity, but the same person did the killing, which is why the murders are in the same style, same weapon used, similar dump sites." he explains as he points between the pictures. "I need everything you have on the victims." The detective says as he turns sharply to Lestrade with a slight swirl of his coat, holding out his hand demandingly.

Nodding a little, Lestrade pulls out the two folders he already prepared for Sherlock and hands them over. "There you are. Anything else you can give us?" The DI asks hopefully as he watches the other man.

Sherlock smirks a little as he takes the folders and looks them over for a few moments, nodding quietly. "Not yet. Need to do some research." He says before he turns and walks out.

Rolling his eyes a little at the antics of his flatmate and partner, John chuckles a little and nods to Lestrade.

"We'll text you with any information."

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**I'm stalling, I know I am. I got some wonderful ideas for cases, and I thank you all for them, I just have to decide which one I want to use. :) You all are wonderful peoples.**

**We're supposed to be getting really bad weather on Sunday so if I don't update, then it's because I have no internet. :)**

**Hope you're still enjoying reading this, reviews/comments make my day (or night)!**


	14. Chapter 14

"To Bart's, then? I imagine Molly well let us have a look at the most recent body, even if they don't have the first. It was two months ago." John says as they walk out of Scotland yard and toward the road where Sherlock hails yet another taxi.

That comment earns John one of those 'you're being clever and it's cute' smiles from the detective, who is tapping away on his phone for some reason or another, probably to do with the case. "Of course, John! I would have preferred to see the crime scene myself, but it seems Scotland Yard, in all their idiocy, assumed it was a simple murder." He scoffs, shaking his head a little. Glancing over at the doctor for a few moments, Sherlock hesitates, and then says, "What you did, what you said in there.." he trails off, feeling a bit awkward. "It was good." he finally says with a nod of his head, taking a deep breath."No one's ever.. done that for me." He says before he focuses back on his phone.

Wishing to do nothing more than run his hand through those dark locks and reassures his detective, John restrains himself, not wanting to distract his partner from the case at hand. So for a moment he flexes his hands where they rest on his thighs, smiling lightly as he looks at Sherlock. "You're welcome, Sherlock." he says with a slight smirk before he looks out the cab window.

When they pull up to Bart's hospital, John is once again left to pay, but Sherlock waits for him on the sidewalk instead of running off, making John smirk a little. Of course, as soon as he gets close to the detective, he strides off, heading down to the morgue.

"Ah, Molly. We're here to see the body of Timothy Wallis." Sherlock says as he strides in, not even noticing that Molly jumps in surprise, staring at the detective for a few moments.

"Oh! Of course! Lestrade said you might be coming down." Molly says with a little shy smile before she goes over to where she has the body pulled out, pulling the sheet down to the man's waist. She then takes a close look at Sherlock, and stares at the mark on his neck, eyes wide. "Oh my. So.. So you've found someone, then?" She asks nervously, blushing a bit.

Sherlock ignores her completely as he so often does, pulling out his magnifying glass and starting to move over the man's body, looking at everything, pulling out the kit that John gave him for Christmas to start going over the body.

John clears his throat and he smiles. "Hello, Molly. How was your Christmas?" he asks curiously as he moves over closer to the flighty girl with her odd crush on the detective. He was sore for a long time with Molly for knowing Sherlock was alive, seeing what he himself was going through in his grief, and not telling him, not even hinting. He's trying to be pleasant to her now since it's not her fault that Sherlock used her affections toward him once again.

It's started to become a rather normal thing that Molly barely even notices John is there, again, always more focused on a certain consulting detective. So she looks a little startled when John approaches her. "Hm? Oh, it was lovely, thank you. How was yours?" She asks as she looks at John, then looks back at Sherlock, staring at his neck a little.

Smirking a little for a few moments, John watches the younger man as well, though in a slightly different way. "Mmm. It was good. Had a few rough patches, but no holiday goes completely smoothly, does it?" he says with a little smirk.

Any answer she was about to give is interrupted by distinctive baritone cutting across the room. "John. I require your medical opinion." Sherlock says in his usual bored, slightly dismissive tone, still bent over the body, looking at some of the markings on the body.

"Well, that's my cue." John says as he turns to walk over, standing on the opposite side of the body from his mad flatmate. "Hm. This wasn't just a random killing. Hands were bound at some point with what looks like large rope judging by the pattern. Maybe something like a boat might use." He offers as he pulls on a pair of examination gloves, turning the arm over slowly. "No defensive wounds so he didn't struggle. Either trusted his attacker or was rendered unconscious." He glances at Sherlock to see if he's going to be shut down in his own meager deductions. But instead he finds the other man just watching him, waiting for him to go on. "Right. Judging from his color and the condition of these wounds here, I would say that death was caused by exsanguination." he says before he pauses for a few moments, turning and lifting one of the man's arms, eyebrows going up in surprise. "Sneaky." he notes, then he motions. "Lift his arm over there, is there a cut on the underarm, near the armpit?"

Once he gets confirmation from the other man, John nods a little, "Right. Small weapon, probably a knife, sliced the underarm here, cutting into the Brachial artery. He would have bled out quickly." He says before he looks at Sherlock. "Calluses on the hands mean that he probably did work with them." He notes as he glances at the taller man, glancing at his own hands briefly and the calluses that haven't gone away from his time as a soldier, holding packs, guns, and the like. Not to mention the distinctive calluses on the outside of his pinkies that comes from pulling boot laces tight.

A small nod from the detective as he watches the doctor go about his examination. "Very good, John." He says before he adds, "There is more. There are traces of metal and gunpowder on his hands, indicating he works around munitions or at least guns on a daily basis." Sherlock starts to explain, then he points to a tattoo the man has on his arm. "This tattoo belongs to a gang that is known for its gun running as well. More importantly, both bodies shared this particular tattoo which the Yard missed, of course." he says with a little bit of annoyance. "Likely this is a message for other members, what happens when you do something wrong." Finally, he leans back from the body, removing the gloves from his hands and then pressing his hands together in front of his face. "Research, I need to do more research, John!" he says before he grabs up the files from Lestrade again before he turns to head out of the lab.

And they're on the movie again, John removing his gloves and tossing them in the bin before he smiles apologetically at Molly. "Thanks, Molly, for letting us have a look." He says with a little wave/

"Sherlock! Slow down, you long-legged prat."

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**I am not good at the case stuff. Or Sherlock's deductions. Best to leave that to the professionals I guess. Probably going to gloss over some of the case between this chapter and the next, hope no one minds! There will definitely be another BAMF-John scene in the near future, though. John is going to kick serious butt. And then maybe cuddles. Because, seriously, who can resist a cuddly Sherlock?**

**Thank you all for reading, getting your reviews makes me happy! I hope you aren't disappointed in this chapter.**

**Reviews/comments welcome!**


	15. Chapter 15

As usual, Sherlock is rather insufferable when he's on the case, keeping the Yard out of the loop as he works on various leads, talking to witnesses, etc. John tags along behind, keeping his hands to himself, though that's a struggle, especially when Sherlock does something brilliant. He also uses the new notebook that he got for Christmas, having a little smile every time he opens it.

It turns out that Sherlock was right, both people were killed by a gang whose main source of income is gun smuggling, though they also dabble in drugs while they're at it. Naturally once they find out where the hideout is, instead of calling the police and just getting them to do the raid, a certain detective wants to get the last pieces of evidence themselves, leading the two of them to a seemingly abandoned warehouse.

Drawing his gun from its place tucked in the back of his jeans, John shakes his head a little. "I don't think this is a good idea, Sherlock." He reiterates in a whisper, keeping low as they move back between some boxes. This is the part of things that he really hates, because it never goes to plan, and it usually ends up with one of them needing medical attention. Usually Sherlock.

Sherlock just gives his partner a look, before he looks ahead. "Shh, John." He says as he looks at the other man before he continues to move through the warehouse toward the center where he thinks that the last of the thugs will be.

As they get closer, they find the warehouse conspicuously empty. "Oh, this is not good." John mutters softly right before he's shot with a taser, giving a cry as he goes down, though thankfully it doesn't give him a heart attack or anything stupid like that. And no amount of training keeps him from hitting the floor, the thugs coming out of the shadows, one of them grabbing his gun.

Of course, one thug or even two Sherlock might be able to take on, but there are about five, half of them armed. So Sherlock can't do anything but hold up his hands in surrender, his worry for his flatmate who appears unconscious to the untrained eye, but he's spent the better part of a week sitting in bed beside John as he sleeps, the detective knows when he is or is not sleeping, and right now he is most definitely conscious.

The sleeping ruse is working though the thugs more worried about Sherlock than they are about John, leaving him loose and unattended as they pull over a chair and start tying Sherlock down to it. "Careful! I won't be able to concentrate if I can't feel my hands." The detective snaps over his shoulder at the one thug, the youngest of the group, who looks a little startled that their captive is being so mouthy. But it's just to keep the attention on him.

Staying still on the floor even after the tremors stop moving through his body, John keeps his breathing even, eyes closed as he listens to the movement. Finally, he carefully opens his eyes, noting that one of the guys, one with a gun, has left, leaving four guys, two with guns, though neither of them are concerned at the moment. He opens his eyes a little more, noting that for now Sherlock is alright, beyond being immobilized by the chair. After catching the man's eye, he smirks a little.

"Honestly, are you just going to stand there?" Sherlock asks as he looks at the guys in front of him. "The least you could do is entertain me. You. You have children, you're used to making up stories. Not a good move, doing something so illegal with little ones at home." He observes as he looks the man over. "Then again, it's not as if criminals can't fall in love." He sighs a little. "But really, it makes you so much easier to threaten when you have a wife and two children at home who would not benefit from you being in jail."

One of the thugs decides that is just about enough out of Sherlock, backhanding him swiftly. "I saw we rough 'im up a little. Boss didn' say we couldn't 'ave a bit of fun." One of the thugs says to the other, getting a somewhat sadistic grin on his face before hitting Sherlock again, this time in the stomach.

This does not make for a happy soldier as John is forced to continue to play possum until the thugs' attentions are on Sherlock fully. The one goon who was so eager to start beating Sherlock at least put his gun behind him on a table. It was the one that he got from John anyway, so as soon as he is able, John slides to his feet silently, ignoring the beating that Sherlock has started to get. He retrieves the gun and slides it back under his waistband since he decides he would rather give these three men the beating of a lifetime.

Since one still has a weapon, John sneaks up behind him first, kicking his knees out from behind and snapping one hand out to grab his wrist that's holding the gun, giving a quick twist to disarm him. He doesn't have time to render him unconscious as his shoulder gets grabbed from behind and he turns while ducking under a punch, landing a blow to the man's stomach. And in a well-learned action-movie move, he grabs the man's head, bringing it up into his knee rather forcefully before kicking out one of his knees to insure that he will not be getting up anytime soon.

The last man attacks, and John hits him a few more times than necessary, giving the guy a rather nasty black eye, dislocating his shoulder, then knocking him out with a swift blow to the temple. Unfortunately the first person that John attacked, while disabled for a moment, was not knocked out. And the gun wasn't his only weapon.

"John!" Sherlock calls as the thug lunges forward with a rather sharp and nasty looking blade, sweeping it forward to try and gut John.

The warning comes not a moment too soon as John is able to grab the wrist of the attacking man. He catches it with his left arm, though, his exertions already having tired that shoulder a little. So John does the only thing he can think of, he pushes his weight forward, sending them stumbling to the ground and after a bit of grappling John pins the other man down, slamming his wrist into the concrete floor once, and then a second time to get him to release the knife, feeling a somewhat sickening crunch as his wrist breaks, thus releasing the knife. A swift hit to the man knocks him out cold, letting John slowly stand, taking a few deep breaths. "Are you alright, love?" he asks in concern of his detective, walking over to carefully untie him before he turns Sherlock's face slowly to examine it, making sure there are no fractures.

"I'm alright, John. That was.. amazing." Sherlock says honestly as he looks at his soldier, rubbing his wrists a little before he reaches out to slide his hand into John's hair, pulling him forward for a fierce kiss, just thankful his doctor is alive.

Of course, that is about the time that sirens can be heard pulling into the parking lot outside, with at least one ambulance. "Oh, bloody hell. I was hoping we could leave before Lestrade showed up." John says quietly, helping Sherlock to his feet, taking his hand firmly before turning to head toward the exit.

Sherlock can't help but smile a little at his little army doctor, using his free hand to re-adjust his clothes a little.

"We could still make our escape out the side if you waned, John."

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**As promised, a little bit of BAMF-John. I may like it a little too much. This time could be bad though, Lestrade is there, how will they explain the three beaten baddies and avoid the trouble of the law? You'll just have to wait until tomorrow to see.**

**Fanfiction is also a little slow with sending out some of the alerts the past few days, at least the ones that I'm receiving at night. So when I post a chapter, around the same time every night, it doesn't send out alert emails to myself until the morning. It's rather odd.**

**Anyway, I hope you all enjoy this still, I've got one other case planned and a few other things along the way!**

**As always, reviews/comments welcome!**


	16. Chapter 16

Shaking his head a little, shocked at his flatmate, John stares at him for a moment. "No. You just got a beating, I just gave a beating, and I am not sneaking away from a crime scene. Who knows, they may actually figure out we were here and that would not look good, Sherlock, not at all." he says in a firm tone, taking a deep breath as he walks toward the door, not letting go of the taller man's hand. "Plus, I want a proper chance to check you over, make sure nothing is cracked." he adds in a more concerned tone.

Sherlock can't help himself, they always find humor in unusual situations and often use it to relieve the adrenaline rush coming from the end of a case. "You know, if you wanted to.. check me over.. the flat would be a much more appropriate place, and you could give me a much thorough working over, Doctor.." He says in a slightly deeper tone, a softer tone as he leans down close to John's ear.

"Sherlock!" John gasps, giving the man a half-hearted glare. "Not appropriate." No matter how tempting it is. "Not good, Sherlock." he says before he shakes his head, but the blush that creeps over his cheeks might imply something different.

Amused at the antics of his partner, such a study in contrasts, Sherlock just chuckles a little. "Ah, Lestrade!" he says as they step out of the warehouse. "You'll find three men in there that need medical attention, I believe, nothing life threatening. They're the last of the smuggling gang." He says with his usual cocky attitude, smirking a little at the DI.

Lestrade splutters a bit, then he frowns and motions some of his team inside, then he looks at Sherlock. "I hope there is a bloody good reason that there are three disabled men in there." he says while pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Quite a good reason, actually. They had Sherlock bound to a chair and were beating him." John says as he motions to Sherlock's face, then brings his hands up and pulls the sleeves of his coat back a little to show the red, raw area on his wrists. "And they put me down with a taser, I'm embarrassed to say. I'm just glad that they underestimated me and didn't tie me up." he admits with a small smile, "I was able to get Sherlock out and disable the attackers." he says casually, though the implication of further violence is there, it's hard to ignore the friendly, cuddly nature of Dr. John Watson.

Sighing a little and nodding quietly, accepting the evidence in front of him, Lestrade looks between the two. "Ambulance is over there, go get Sherlock treated and then I'll need a statement from both of you. Tonight." he says in a firm tone that tells them not to run off. Again.

Although he doesn't like it, Sherlock knows it will be more trouble than it's worth to fight either men on this point, and so with a resigned sigh, he nods to Lestrade and lets John lead him away and make him sit down on the gate of the ambulance.

"I'm a doctor, I've got it." John says authoritatively to the EMT, before he takes out some supplies and gloves, stepping forward and between Sherlock's knees slightly before he tips his head up and starts to clean the split lip he got, wiping off the bruise to see how bad it is before applying a little bit of crème and breaking out a cold pack as well, placing it lightly against Sherlock's cheek. "Hold that there." he says in a firm tone, giving him an apologetic look when the younger man winces.

After the ice pack is taken from his hands, John leans over and smiles a little at Sherlock, but he starts pressing lightly around the area of his stomach and ribs, paying close attention to the reactions. And while there's some wincing from the bruising he has, there's nothing that indicates any cracked or broken ribs. "Thank God for that.." he breaths before he looks at Sherlock's questioning expression. "No cracks or breaks in your ribs, it seems." he says with a little smile, touching the detective's uninjured cheek gently for a moment. "I'm sorry I had to wait so long, the one bloody man wouldn't turn around." John mutters, feeling a bit guilty about some of the injuries.

Sherlock reaches up with his free hand and puts it around John's wrist, holding it there as he tilts his head slightly into the warm palm of his partner. "It's alright, John. I've had worse." He says with a little smile. "You won't even be able to tell in a day or two." he reassures, not able to smile too much because of the split in his lip. The detective knows that the doctor will only fuss if he pulls the lip open again. No doubt it will happen once or twice before it's healed, but if he can avoid it, he will.

After the three men are removed from the warehouse and packed into the ambulances which John and Sherlock have to move away from in order to accommodate, Lestrade returns to the pair, shaking his head. "You sure did a number on them, John. You're lucky, you did just enough." he says honestly as he looks at the doctor. "If you injured them any more than you had, there might be the question of whether it was self defense or assault, but you seemed to have toed that line very carefully. I don't think there's any question about it being self defense. Still, I need your statements now, if you please." He says as he pulls out his notebook to jot down what they tell him, then he watches expectantly.

With a glance, the two start to explain what happened, what led them to that particular warehouse (which is mostly Sherlock explaining his deductions), and what happened once they entered the warehouse all the way up until Lestrade and his team got there. After the explanations, John sighs a little. "And if you have nothing further for us today, Greg, I really would like to take Sherlock home and make completely sure he's alright." He says in a concerned tone as he glances up at the taller man.

Trying very hard not to grin at the couple, Lestrade settles for a smirk, chuckling softly. "I am sure your interest in checking out Sherlock is purely clinical, Dr. Watson." he says in a suggestive tone with a little smirk. "Well, I forgot to say before, but congrats. Always thought you two were good together, and good for each other. It's clear as day to anyone with eyes." he says with another little smile as he looks between the two. "Just don't screw it up. Take it from me, that's the hardest thing when you know you had something good, and you know you're the one who's screwed it up." Lestrade points out with a little sigh as he glances between the two for a moment, then adds, "Take care of each other." He says in a firm tone before he turns to head back to some of the other officers.

Blushing a little at what Lestrade says, John squares his shoulders and then nods firmly in the man's direction, taking a deep breath before he tugs Sherlock toward the street, silent and thoughtful as he considers every way that this could possibly go wrong between him and Sherlock and what if it did -

"Stop it." Sherlock interrupts his thoughts, shaking his head. "Stop worrying, and stop thinking so hard, it's annoying. Nothing like what Lestrade said is going to happen." The younger man scolds, giving John's hand a little reassuring squeeze, still holding the ice pack to his cheek with the other hand. "Lestrade and his wife grew apart because she is a terribly flirt, and doesn't understand Lestrade's job. You and I work together on cases, you understand me, I understand you. You do tend to flirt a little, but shouldn't that be more of my worry than yours? Surely you can figure out that my eyes, at the very least, will not be wandering." he points out with a slight smirk as he looks down at the other man.

Relaxing a little, John chuckles a little and then he nods. "Yeah, I think you're right." he says with a little smirk as he looks at Sherlock. "You know, for a self-proclaimed sociopath, you're pretty smart about relationships so far. I always knew you couldn't be as bad as all that." he says with another shake of his head, getting to the curb

Sherlock just makes a noncommittal hum in his throat, lifting his hand to hail down the nearest taxi. Even out here next to a warehouse he manages to get one, when there's hardly a car in sight. Ridiculous. As if he can read the thoughts going through John's head, Sherlock smirks down at the older man next to him, opening the taxi door for him so they can slide in without releasing eachother's hands.

"I don't dress well just to look posh, John."

* * *

**And yet, he does look so very posh, and well.. good. :) And I just can't resist Sherlock having magical taxi-summoning powers. ;)**

**Hope you're all enjoying this, and thank you so much for all the reviews, again. Hopefully I will continue to live up to all of your expectations!**

**Comments/Reviews welcome and encouraged! :)**


	17. Chapter 17

"Could have fooled me." John says with a little smirk as he gets into the cab, looking over at his partner and love, giving the taller man's hand a squeeze as he gives the address to the cabbie, pulling out his phone to awkwardly unlock it and look at it one-handed, checking something on it before he looks over at Sherlock. "Looks like we're going to be in for a bit of a cold snap in the next few days. Well, colder than normal. We should make sure that Baker Street is shut up tight." he says quietly as he looks at Sherlock.

Sulking a little, Sherlock sighs, "Boring." he says flatly as he looks out the window as they drive, still holding John's hand. He removes the cold pack from his cheek, working his jaw for a few moments. "Must I keep this on my cheek any more, John?" he asks in frustration.

"Like it or not, you're going to help me seal up the flat." John insists before he reaches out with his free hand, turning Sherlock's face to the side to examine the bruise, nodding quietly to himself, satisfied. "You should be fine.. you don't need the ice pack anymore." He says with a little smile, reaching up to brush some of the fringe away from Sherlock's forehead.

"Why does it matter if we seal up the flat? If we get cold, we can just stay under a blanket together, it's more efficient to share body heat anyway." Sherlock says logically as he watches John for a few moments, a faint smile crossing his face briefly when John brushes back some of his hair.

Blushing a little, John watches the younger man for a few moments, before he clears his throat. "Yes, that's an option, but if you have to stay under blankets all day with me, you'll get bloody bored and insufferable, Sherlock." he points out as he finally looks over at the detective again.

Deciding to be a little playful tonight, Sherlock leans against his doctor, sighing a little. "I'm sure you could keep me stimulated.." he pauses for dramatic effect. "Mentally, of course." he says in a slightly disapproving way, as if sensing where John's mind inevitably goes with that comment.

Thankfully that is about the time that they arrive back at Baker Street, and John sighs a little. "You're right, you're already insufferable, Sherlock." John mutters as he gets them into the flat, having had to let go of Sherlock's hand, and he heads up, hanging up his jacket before he motions. "Alright.. come on.. shirt off, let me have a look at you." he says as he walks over. This is not a new thing for them, John has examined Sherlock a lot of times before, but he doesn't usually require the detective to take off his shirt. In fact, this time he barely waits for Sherlock to respond before he steps over and starts to unbutton the taller man's shirt, trying to remain detached but he can't quite manage it, his fingers brushing against the younger man more than necessary. John admires his detective for a moment as he spreads the shirt, fingertips running over the pale skin as he searches for any bruises or lacerations.

Surprised, Sherlock smirks a little, letting John undo his shirt. "You're rather forceful tonight, John.." He says with a little chuckle, but he casually sheds his suit jacket, tossing it to the side before he strips his shirt the rest of the way off to let John examine him, not being exactly shy about his body, especially around John. It is not the first, or even the tenth time the doctor has seen him shirtless, but the consulting detective can tell that this is different. His doctor is touching him a little more than is strictly necessary, but Sherlock doesn't mind, he just smirks a little as he looks at the man before him. "Satisfied?" he asks quietly, managing to keep control so as not to wince when the ex army doctor presses down on a bruise or two. But he can tell that there are no broken or bruised bones.

Finishing his exam, John flattens his hands against Sherlock's skin, sliding them around his sides and nodding. "Yes. I'm satisfied." He reassures, leaning up to kiss his detective softly, sighing a little. "Alright.. You can put your shirt back on if you like." he says, walking over to the couch to sit down and remove his boots, putting his feet up on the coffee table as he turns on the tellie.

Silently, the lanky detective walks over to the couch, stretching out on it, putting his head in John's lap and rubbing his cheek against John's leg for a moment as he gets comfortable, looking at the TV curiously, one hand resting beside his cheek on John's leg. "What are you watching?" he asks skeptically as he looks at the tellie.

Smirking at his catlike flatmate, John lets his hand rest in Sherlock's curls, stroking through them, and earning himself a satisfied almost-purr from the detective. "Nothing in particular, I was just flipping channels, really." He says with a smile, remote in his other hand. He continues stroking the detective's hair, rubbing his scalp in a light massage for a few moments before going back to carding his hair through it. Meanwhile, he flips through the channels, trying to find something that they can both watch without Sherlock yelling at the tellie too much.

"Oh, just choose something, John, it's more annoying when you won't settle on a show." Sherlock finally snaps in annoyance, shifting a little to get more comfortable, before he sighs an settles down, enjoying the hand in his hair, which is one of his new favorite things.

Shaking his head with a small chuckle, John gives Sherlock's hair a little tug. "Bossy." He accuses quietly with another shake of his head. "You're always so bossy." he mutters, before he sighs. "Fine.." he settles on Antique's Roadshow just because it's something Sherlock might be mildly interested in.

With a little smirk, Sherlock only half pays attention to the TV, the rest of his mind occupied with other things. "Don't worry, John. Everyone knows who wears the pants in this relationship." He jokes with a little chuckle as he glances up at his doctor.

John sighs a little, shaking his head. "Yeah, you. I just follow you around like a puppy, take notes, write up a blog, give you useless opinions on things you already know. And occasionally save your arse. Though it is a nice arse." he teases as he looks at Sherlock, hand sliding down out of his hair to the back of his neck before it slides back up.

Shifting a little so that he can look up at John, Sherlock considers, rather confused as he continues to watch the older man. "No, John." He says with a little shake of his head. "No.. You are the one that I rely on. You are the only one whose orders I would ever listen to. You make me eat and sleep, you make me feel. I am attracted to you when before sex, and kissing, didn't interest me. I care about your opinion quite a lot." he says quietly, reaching out and touching the tags through John's shirt for a moment, considering before he turns a little again so that he's on his side, but this time facing John's jumper, curling up a little to get comfortable.

"You are everything, John."

* * *

**Awwww! Cuddly Sherlock again. He really does like it when John plays with his hair. I think it might be his weak spot. Lets hope John keeps that in mind!**

**They could be in for some rather bad weather soon, how will they cope?**

**Thank you for all your wonderful reviews, it makes me super happy to see them in my inbox. And sorry about not updating sooner, but Fanfiction was refusing to let me update, the page was broken.**

**Reviews/Comments welcome!**


	18. Chapter 18

The rest of that night is spent cuddling, never too far from eachother, occasionally exchanging lazy kisses and engaging in one gentle snogging session that ends only when John complains about his shoulder. Eventually the two retire to bed, Sherlock actually deigning to sleep tonight because it's been a few days and because he knows his injuries need to heal and healing is aided by sleep. Or so his doctor tells him.

When morning comes around, John wakes up alone for once, and by the feel of the bed beside him, he's been alone for a while. But that's ok, he knows that lazy mornings in bed are not going to be an everyday occurrence, especially since his vacation is coming to a close soon. Finally, he drags himself out of bed, and after a quick shower, wanders into the main living area. "Sherlock?" He asks, surprised when he doesn't immediately see the detective. "Sherlock, where are you?"

When there's no respond, John tries to convince himself not to panic before going over and picking up his phone, looking at it for messages. When there aren't any messages there from the detective either, the doctor again tells himself not to lose it, that the man could have just gone out to the shop for something or could be down with Mrs. Hudson for all he knows. So instead of working himself into a frenzy, he calmly opens a text message to his detective.

Where are you? -JW

To fend off the silence of the flat, John walks into the kitchen to make himself some toast and too turn the kettle on for tea, refusing to acknowledge the way he's clutching at his phone. Thankfully he doesn't have to wait too long before the phone pings, and John fumbles with it for a moment before he manages to get it unlocked and open.

We needed supplies. -SH

Then a moment later another comes through.

Thought you would be asleep longer. -SH

Relieved more than he rationally should be, John relaxes against the counter as he sees those messages, and then he's able to tap out a much more rational response.

What sorts of supplies? -JW

Storm supplies. Turn the TV onto that horrid weather station you love. -SH

You haven't had your tea and toast yet or you would know. -SH

Were you worried I'd gone? - SH

Rubbing a hand over his forehead, John shakes his head before he turns the tellie onto the weather channel, before heading back to make his toast and tea, finally settling down just in time to listen to the weather.

"... and it looks like along with the unseasonably cold temperatures, London could look forward to a couple of inches of snow in the next few days. We'd recommend postponing any travel plans if you're driving, things could get nasty out there!"

John listens to the woman explaining the weather as he eats his toast, nodding a little and finally understanding what Sherlock means. Realizing he didn't send a response back to his detective, he reaches back over and picks the phone up from the table, composing a reply before Sherlock starts texting him incessantly.

Yes I was worried, you bloody git. -JW

Just saw local weather. Snow? Good call on the supplies. Make sure to get batteries and candles, in case the power goes out. -JW

Yes John, I had figured that out on my own. -SH

Also got supplies to refill First Aid kit. -SH

And some treats for us. -SH

Heading home now. -SH

The texts come so rapid-fire that John doesn't even have a chance to hit the 'reply' button before it pings again. So the doctor just scrolls through reading the messages, arching an eyebrow. 'Treats?' he mouths before shaking his head for a few moments. He's not sure if he wants to know what Sherlock would consider a 'treat' for the both of them, though he hopes it's something edible.

John doesn't bother with a reply since Sherlock is on his way back, he just goes and does the dishes, considering before he washes up the cherries, removing the stems and putting them in a bowl in a hope that Sherlock will eat them. Of course, he has to try one of them since it's been a while since he had cherries, glad that they don't have pits. He always thought that was just too much work, dealing with the pits and everything.

Slowly shaking his head at the ridiculousness of that thought, John wanders over to the window to look up at the sky, noting that there are indeed clouds starting to roll in. So he starts a load of laundry and goes up to his room, gathering some clothes to stash them back in Sherlock's room, subtly moving downstairs, but after the first initial things, he's still doing it at his pace. He also brings down some blankets which he puts beside the couch just in case, and he locates the rest of their candles and such, making sure they have matches, and then making sure that all the windows are tightly closed. About the time he finishes with that is when he hears the front door close, and a familiar stair-skipping step come up, along with the rustling of bags.

"Welcome back." John says as he glances over at where Sherlock is stepping through the door, walking over to relieve him of some of the bags. "In the future, I'd prefer it if you left me a note or a text or something if you go out before I wake up." He says quietly as he starts to unpack some of the bags. More matches, something they always seem to need, candles, water, etc.

Sherlock unpacks the bags as well, looking over at John. "I'll keep that in mind for the future. I bought milk." He says as he holds up the container, tucking it away in the fridge. Which for Sherlock is as good as an apology. He returns to his doctor, leaning over and giving him a soft kiss. "I'll text you next time." He considers for a few moments. "Is it because we're a couple now that you were more worried, John, or is it because.. you're still afraid I won't come back?" He asks, hesitant but apparently needing to know, even if he doesn't want to upset John.

Taking a slow, deep breath as he looks at the detective, John turns away and puts some of the items away, balling up the bags to let them join the rest in a separate bag for recycling. "I always worried when you weren't here, Sherlock. Because you always run off and get yourself into trouble. It's worse now, because of what you did, and yes, sometimes when you're not here I worry that you're not coming back. I think now I'm more worried about something changing your mind, that you'll wake up one day, tell me the experiment is over, or that you just can't handle being with me." He braces his hands on the counter, back to Sherlock, before lowering his head and taking a few deep breaths. "And I know it's bloody idiotic. I know you don't deal well with these kinds of emotions, and it's ok. But you know me. You know that I am.. well.. I'm a lot better with emotions. And for two years while you were gone, I got even better with them, between times when I was so crippled by depression I just lay in bed all day, to talking to a therapist." He shakes his head a little, staring down at the counter, not looking at Sherlock still.

Quietly, the detective takes everything in and he nods quietly, before he walks over. he notices that John seems to find comfort in being close to him, so Sherlock puts his arms around the older man, holding him close and kissing his bowed head before resting his forehead against the back of John's head. "You're right. I'm not good with emotions, but I am learning, John. I told you I would have to adjust." he says quietly, thinking over his words carefully. "But I would never abandon you like that. You're my blogger, my best friend, my assistant, my partner, and as horribly juvenile as it sounds, you are my boyfriend." he says, wincing a little after he says the word. "Am I not doing well, so far?" he asks, confused mostly because he thought he was adjusting to the relationship stuff rather well, considering it's only been about a week since they got together.

And somehow, Sherlock always turns things around so John wants to comfort him instead of the other way around. Slowly turning, John puts his arms around Sherlock and holds him as well. "No, love. You're doing good. You're bloody brilliant." He reassures as he holds him. "I'm sorry. I guess I just got used to waking up with you there, just shook me up a bit this morning." He says with a small nod of his head, taking in the feel and smell of his detective for a moment, giving him a light kiss before he moves away. "I washed up your cherries for you, you'd better eat them before they go bad." he says as he slowly moves away from Sherlock, snagging one from the bowl and holding it up to him.

Glad for the change in subject which makes him feel a little more comfortable, Sherlock sighs a little. "Yes, I will eat them, John. I'm quite fond of cherries." he says before he shakes his head slightly when he's presented with one. Obediently, he leans over and takes the cherry from John's fingers, letting his teeth graze the older man's fingers, then his lips brush against the skin soothingly. Drawing back, he smirks a little, grabbing another one as he walks by the table, even as he eats the first one. "Snow is starting." He says before picking up his violin slowly, in the mood to play at the moment.

Chuckling a little, John eats one of the cherries as well before he moves over to the other window and looks out, nodding quietly. "So it is." he says with a little smirk before he picks up the morning's paper and moves over to his chair, starting the fire before the cold really seeps in. "I hope you're planning on playing that properly." He notes as he watches the younger man lift up the violin.

"Mmm. I'm in the mood to play." Sherlock says with a small smile, before he starts to play quietly, body unconsciously swaying with the music as he lets his eyes fall closed, movements graceful and precise as he plays the soft, sweet tune for John.

Smiling a little, John sits down in his recliner and opens his paper, reading through it a little before he chuckles a little, closing it to look at Sherlock again.

"Maybe we'll get to try out your idea of cuddling to share body heat afterall."

* * *

**Yay, another chapter! A storm is on its way, will the Baker Street boys be alright? Of course they will! If they weren't alright, I think some of you might kill me. .**

**I hope that the two chapters this morning make up for me being unable to post yesterday. Hope none of you were too disappointed. And I hope you're all enjoying this still!**

**Reviews/comments welcome!**


	19. Chapter 19

Sherlock stops playing quietly, then he lowers the bow and taps it against the side of his leg, watching the snow coming down. "Do you know how to dance, John? And when I say dance, I mean ballroom, waltz, specifically." He offers, keeping the violin on his shoulder, the bow still tapping uncertainly against his leg.

Considering that question for a few moments, and seeming amused by it, John shifts a little in his seat. "Proper waltz? I knew it once, I think." he says as he tilts his head back against his chair. "Why the sudden question, you've never asked about dancing before." He points out, folding the paper and putting it aside.

Thinking about everything for a few moments, Sherlock smiles lightly as he looks over at John. Mysteriously, he says nothing, putting his violin to the side before he hums some tune to himself, moving around the room to clear more of the floor, moving the coffee table off to the side, and some of his stacks of papers before he loads up his laptop and starts playing some music which is violin and sounds a bit like Sherlock, but it's probably nothing that John has ever heard him play before.

"Shall we, then?" Sherlock asks as he holds his hand out toward the older man, looking a touch mischievous for the moment as he waits for the response from his doctor.

Arching an eyebrow, John sighs a little and takes the younger man's hand. "I didn't even know you could dance. Though I suppose we didn't get a chance at your mother's party." He says with a small smile, feeling very odd and awkward as he lets Sherlock lead him so they're standing at the middle of the sitting room.

Chuckling a little for a few moments, Sherlock nods. "No, we didn't get a chance, did we? I'll let you in on a little secret.." he says as he leans down toward his doctor, putting a hand on the older man's waist while the other twists in his hand into proper position. "I actually love to dance." he says with a little smile.

"And I suppose you're leading, then? If that's not a metaphor for our life, I don't know what is." John says with a little chuckle as he puts his free arm awkwardly on Sherlock's shoulder, not used to that positioning.

"You lead where our relationship is concerned, John." Sherlock points out, smirking a little before he starts to lead John in a quiet waltz, which is awkward and uncertain at first, but it soon smoothes out as they find a rhythm. "Hm. I thought you would be quite the graceful dancer, John." He says as he moves them around the room slowly, careful of the furniture while enjoying being close to the doctor.

As the snow continues to fall outside, it lends a muffled quality to everything as it starts to stick to the surfaces, the boys of Baker Street finding themselves feeling slightly isolated and lost in their little world as they waltz about the sitting room. Sherlock with a little smile on his face, John echoing it, always liking seeing when the detective is calm and at ease like this. And thankfully they just finished a case so that leaves Sherlock in a rather good mood. When the song finally ends, the younger detective squeezes John's hand and then pulls it toward their bodies slowly, pulling the older man's hand against his chest. "I think we could enjoy this.. snow day, John." He says quietly, their bodies still swaying back and forth a little slowly.

Chuckling a little as he leans against the taller man, John considers it. "You do, do you?" he asks, leaning up slightly to give the soft skin of Sherlock's jaw a few soft kisses, until he slides is hand from Sherlock's shoulder to the back of his neck, tugging him down to give his lips a soft kiss. "What exactly did you have in mind?" He asks curiously, his mood lifted by how relaxed an almost playful his detective is.

Laughing lightly, Sherlock kisses John again and he smiles. "I propose that we spend the day, here in the flat, together. That is what couples do when they have time, isn't it?" he asks as he watches John. "You still have some insecurities about our relationship." He says honestly, giving him a kiss to silence his protests. "I have some as well.. So I will give you the lead, John." He says with a small smirk, swooping in to steal another kiss, though he still sways with the older man.

There are times when Sherlock does something that surprises John so much he is at a loss for words, and this is one of those moments. Shaking his head slowly, he runs his hand through the curls on the back of Sherlock's head, caressing his hand over the tender skin of his neck for a moment. "I don't know how anyone believes you're a sociopath, Sherlock. If they could see the way you are now..." he says with a small shake of her head. "Blimey, Sherlock, you make me speechless sometimes." He says softly, pulling the younger man down, pressing their lips together once more in a soft, sensual kiss, which deepens after a few moments as the doctor presses their bodies closer, their movements stopping. Knowing that he had better stop himself before he drags Sherlock off to the bedroom, he leans back and takes a small step away, taking a few deep breaths and he then smiles.

"Alright... You.. go get comfortable on the couch with some blankets." John says as he waves vaguely toward the couch, shaking his head as he licks his lips, walking into the kitchen to retrieve the bowl of cherries, two cups of tea and on impulse grab the strawberries as well. "Wish we had some whipping cream, but we'll just have to make do." He says as he brings everything back to the couch, putting it down on the coffee table before he grabs the remote.

While John is busying himself in the kitchen, Sherlock arranges the blankets and a pillow from his bed to arrange a comfortable makeshift 'bed' for them, nodding a little in satisfaction, he goes to change back into his pajamas before he comes out in time to meet John back in the sitting room. "You should change into something more comfortable." he says as he takes one of the cherries and eats it, watching the doctor.

Considering for a few moments, John smiles and nods, going to Sherlock's bedroom to change into his pajamas before he sits on the couch, reclining back against one arm, one leg hanging off the couch, the other pressed against the back of it. "Come here, you." He says, pulling the coffee table close enough they can both reach it.

Trying to figure out what's wanted of him, Sherlock just watches John uncertainly for a moment, before his mind figures it out, and the detective moves over, sitting on the edge of the couch before he stretches out on his stomach between John's legs, resting his head on John's chest, arms on either side of the other man's body.

Chuckling a little at the position Sherlock chooses, John gets comfortable, bringing his dangling leg up onto the couch on the other side of Sherlock, cradling the younger man there as he strokes his hand down over his hair. "Mmm.. You know, I never expected you to be such a cuddler. You always seemed so.. adverse to touch." he says quietly, reaching out and tugging the tray of food closer, picking up a cherry and popping it into his mouth.

Making a small sound in his throat, Sherlock nuzzles into John's chest gently. "As always, you see but you do not observe, John. I am very tactile in nature, but I have never felt it.. necessary or pleasant to touch other people. Perhaps because I did not understand the emotion behind it and did not want to be misconstrued." He says quietly before he smirks. "You have not paid attention to other things. The quality of my clothes in general, the textures that I surround myself with. I cannot say for sure since I cannot feel directly what others feel, but I seem to have a very sensitive sense of touch."

"I guess that does explain a few things." John says quietly with a small smile, picking up another cherry and holding it in front of Sherlock's mouth, nudging it against his lips briefly before he feels the younger man open his mouth and he slides the cherry past sharp teeth that nip at his fingers before he withdraws his hand with a little smile. "Well, I'm glad that I get to reap the benefits of your nature, Sherlock." He says quietly, kissing the top of his head gently, rubbing his scalp softly. "Lets see if we can find something we can both watch." he says with a small chuckle as he starts to flip channels, finding something that Sherlock doesn't object to too much, picking up his tea to take a sip before he puts it aside.

"Unless we have cases that follow closely with eachother, I believe this would be an excellent way to spend our time post-case.." Sherlock decides, wiggling his way up a little so his head is closer to John's neck, placing a soft kiss there.

Chuckling a little, John picks up another cherry and feeds it to Sherlock, pleased that the detective doesn't seem to be objecting to food this way. Or maybe he just likes cherries. Either way, John is happy that the younger man isn't objecting to the food. He'll take what he can get.

"Mmmm. No wonder people call you a genius."

* * *

**And... that is my response to Sherlock revealing he loves to dance. OMG. I about died. If you have no idea what I'm talking about.. watch season 3!**

**Hope everyone enjoys this, I was in the mood for something cuddly after being a little.. erm.. horrible.. to them in another fic of mine. :) Snowstorm continues next chapter!**

**Reviews/comments welcome!**


	20. Chapter 20

**Warning: Scenes of a suggestively (but not explicitly) sexual nature ahead! Don't like, then skip this chapter.**

* * *

The feeding and tellie-watching continue for a while, until they run out of cherries, and John starts to drift off into a doze, his arms around the younger man now, one hand buried in Sherlock's hair. the other arm is around his back, just holding him close.

Of course, sleeping is not on Sherlock's agenda for the day, so he doesn't let John doze for long before he shifts and nuzzles along the older man's neck, starting to place soft kisses along the skin, waking him up gently, sliding one hand up under the back of John's shirt.

Of course, being half asleep and being molested by your flatmate and boyfriend is an unusual combination, but John doesn't seem to mind, slowly waking up under the gentle ministrations. "Sh'lock.. what are you doing?" he mumbles, slurring some of his words in a sleepy way.

"Honestly, John. I know your mind is addled by sleep, but I thought that it would have been rather obvious." Sherlock scolds lightly in John's ear, nipping at it gently before he returns his attentions to John's neck. He's quite enjoying the reaction that he's getting, especially when those clever, clever fingers start moving in his hair.

Chuckling a little and smiling a bit, John tilts his head up and hums, his body responding to the attention, eagerly, since the only attention it's gotten beyond a bit of snogging has been from having a wank in the mornings or whenever he has a moment to himself. "Mmm.. what's obvious is that you're putting that clever mouth and - oh!" He gasps when Sherlock licks up his neck, shuddering a little. "And.. and tongue.. to good use.." he says quietly, his voice growing a little rough as he starts to become more aroused.

Feeling rather triumphant to get that sort of reaction out of John since he's been so careful to control how far they go so far, Sherlock hums softly and nods slowly. "I could show you how clever I can really be with my tongue.." he offers seductively, sliding up so they're more evenly lined up, rocking his hips against his doctor's.

Letting out a low moan, John looks up at Sherlock, sliding one hand up under the other man's shirt. "Sherlock.." He murmurs, not sure if he's warning him or asking for more, his back arching a little before he pulls him down for a passionate kiss, legs spreading slightly more before he hooks one over Sherlock's long legs, foot sliding up and down the taller man's calf.

Breaking the kiss after a few long minutes in which it gets more passionate and demanding, Sherlock starts rocking rhythmically against the older man. "Oh, John.." He groans softly, nibbling at the older man's jaw, then nipping at his lower lip. "I know you need time, but there are so many other things we could do.. don't you think I know what you're doing when you go upstairs by yourself, or when you take a shower by yourself? I can tell by the flush of your cheeks, the dilation of your eyes..." Sherlock nearly whispers to John. "I want to see you.. I want to be the cause of that look on your face. Please, John. Let me do this.. let me in, just a little.." he murmurs against the former soldier's lips.

Feeling the fog of arousal creeping over his mind, John tilts his head back a little and gasps, then lets out a slight moan. "Sherlock..." He whimpers, giving him a searing kiss before he uses his grip on the younger man's curls to pull his head back. "Bedroom." He mumbles. Clumsily, they stand up, refusing to let much space get between them. There's stumbling through the living room, nervous laughter before John finds himself pinned against the diving wall between the kitchen and living room, a certain detective holding him in place as he puts his long-fingered hands to good use.

Of course, John doesn't let them maintain that position for very long, the soldier in him demanding that he get control, so he pushes Sherlock away from him, spinning them around so he's walking the taller man back toward their bedroom again, ending up pushing him against the hallway wall, their kisses less coordinated, each man stripping off their t-shirts as they go. Against the white noise of the tellie in the background, the only other things that can be heard is the sound of bare feet on floor, kissing, and the tags gently clinking against John's chest as they move.

Finally, when they get to the bedroom, Sherlock triumphs by getting John on his back again. "I think you'll quite enjoy this, John.." he purrs as he presses his body against John's, lowering his head to suck, nibble and lick along the older man's neck before he finally turns his attention to his doctor's collarbone and chest, smiling at the soft, wanton noises that he seems to be able to draw from John.

A soft laugh is given when Sherlock's fingers brush against John's sides in a slightly ticklish spot. He is almost too far gone to care what the detective does to him as long as it feels as good as everything the younger man is doing right now. "Promises, Promises. I hear a lot of talk.. not much action." He teases the taller man with a small chuckle.

"Well, then, my sexy little soldier.. why don't I show you just how clever I can be with my tongue?" Sherlock asks with a little smirk up at the man. He proceeds to do just that, until the doctor practically yells his name. He finds his own completion at the hands of his skilled soldier, collapsing against him, both of them breathing hard.

After a few moments of relaxation, Sherlock finally shifts enough to clean them both up before he pulls John against him, hand running through that gray-blonde hair, and he smiles a little. "You need a haircut." He teases the older man, still breathing a little heavily, both of their bodies sticky with drying sweat, starting to cool, when previously the room seemed stifling

"Mmm.. so do you." John says with a little smirk as he trails his fingertips up the detective's spine slowly. "Bloody hell, Sherlock.. You weren't kidding about your clever tongue.." He says with a small shake of his head, stretching slowly before he relaxes and nestles back into the detective's arms.

"And I didn't realize you would be so.. vocal." Sherlock says with a slight smirk. "It's good that Mrs. Hudson is still at her sister's." He teases, shifting until he can lean down and give John's lips a soft kiss. "Are you alright?" he asks in concern, just hoping he didn't push him too far.

A little surprised at the question, John stares at Sherlock. "Alright?" he asks incredulously. "You just blew my mind, Sherlock. I am more than alright.." He says with a little chuckle. "Ugh.. and now I'm sticky.. we need a shower, as much as I don't want to get up.." he says before he reluctantly sits up, stretching again and groaning as he feels his back pop.

Sherlock grumbles good-naturedly, kissing the back of John's shoulder lightly before he slips out of bed as agile as ever, pulling John to his feet and then toward the shower. Once the water is hot and steam starts building up in the bathroom, the two men get into the shower and start to clean eachother off, gently and lovingly, kisses exchanged as well as soft caresses.

When they finally get out, their boxers and pajama pants are retrieved, Sherlock finding a light blanket to wrap around himself while John goes in search of his shirt, ending up looking out the window. "Wow, it's really coming down." The doctor says as he looks at the big flakes of soft white snow that are falling steadily from the sky, the clouds giving everything a strange gray haze to it.

Stepping up behind his doctor, Sherlock opens the blanket he has over his shoulders, engulfing John in it as well, resting his head on top of the older man's to look out the window with him. "I'm glad I got our supplies, I doubt any place will be open." he says quietly, no cars going by and barely anyone out on the streets, it feels eerily quiet, like the entire city has shut down. "Well, we're going to be in for a boring few days until they get this mess cleaned up." he says with a little pout. "Perhaps you can find some way to entertain me, John. What do you think?" he asks playfully as he holds the soldier against him, keeping the both warm with the blanket.

Laughing a little as he leans back against Sherlock, tilting his head back for a moment before he looks out the window again. "Sherlock, I am an expert in attempting to keep you entertained when there is no case on. I am sure that we can come up with something. I at least know of one way to get that brilliant mind of yours to shut down." He says with a broad grin, having noticed that he went kind of blank after his orgasm.

Smirking slightly, Sherlock watches the man in his arms, before he kisses the side of his head gently. Once again he marvels at how everything came together. If it hadn't been for Christmas, they might have kept dancing around eachother, never revealing their feelings to eachother, never exploring what their relationship could turn into. Shaking his head for a few moments, the detective just smiles against his doctor's hair, his voice a little rough as he responds playfully.

"Well, feel free to see how many times you can make my mind go blank."

* * *

**Well, we all knew it had to happen eventually. I suppose it couldn't stay chaste forever. Ahem. Seems when it comes to certain things, Sherlock knows what he wants! :D**

**Thank you to everyone who has reviewed/commented so far, I love seeing what you guys think! I hope you aren't too bored with the somewhat lack of plot. Heheh. I do have another idea for a case I'm going to have them explore, but I am going to have to work it out more carefully so I don't end up just skipping over it like the last one.**

**I hope you're all still enjoying this! Reviews/Comments welcome!**


	21. Chapter 21

Chuckling a little and shaking his head at his ridiculous lover - yes, he can use that word now, lover - before he turns his head to look at the detective. "Maybe later. I'm not 20 anymore, I need a bit of recovery time." he says with a little smile. "How about I make some tea?" He offers, starting to move out of the cocoon of Sherlock's arms and the blanket, sighing at the loss of the warmth.

Though he releases the doctor from his arms, Sherlock grumbles a little, closing the blankets back up around himself afterwards. "Fine.." he says with a slight pout, walking over to the window to look down at Baker Street. "I don't suppose you'll let me dip into my secret stash." He says as he glances over at John.

"Nope. Sex does not constitute that sort of emergency." John points out with a smirk, licking his lips a little. "Though, if things keep up like they are, I might let you keep a pack in your end table, for post-coital use only." He notes with a small smirk before he retrieves his shirt and slides it on before he goes about making tea, pulling out some jammie dodgers that Sherlock pulled out, smirking a little. "You never did tell me much about your childhood." He points out over his shoulder as he pulls out two mugs and starts to prepare them.

"And you never told me about your time in Afghanistan." Sherlock points out in return with a slight smirk, finally turning away from the window and walking toward the kitchen. "I will answer your questions if you answer mine." He offers as he watches John, smirking a little and leaning against the door frame, before he shuffles up behind the doctor again, lowering his chin to the older man's shoulder.

John sighs a little, but then he nods, knowing that he agreed to tell Sherlock what he wants to know, and at least the detective is willing to give him something in exchange. "Alright.." he offers, finishing the tea and turning a little to hand the taller man his tea before he walks over and sits back down on the couch, legs extended.

Following John over, Sherlock sits down at the opposite end of the couch, turning and putting his legs up on the couch as well, on either side of the older man's legs. He sips his tea, tapping his foot against the other man's hip gently. "Ask your first question." He says with a little smirk.

John chuckles a little as he watches Sherlock, though he's glad they're facing eachother for the moment since that makes it a little easier to read Sherlock, if anything could be considered 'easy' about that. He considers for a few moments, then he takes a deep breath. "You've told me a little about what growing up was like..." he pauses. "But what about your father? What happened to him?" He asks curiously, not wanting to push too hard but he's kind of curious.

Sherlock nods a little, as if he were expecting this question, and he looks down at his tea. "Like Mycroft, my father held what he called a minor position in the British government." he says as he looks at his tea. "He was never around much, and officially, he died in a car crash when I was eight. I looked into it later in life, and the circumstances were suspicious to say the least." He says as he finally looks up at John, smiling a little as he sips his tea. "When I was younger, I thought that was the reason that Mycroft went into government. Besides following in our father's footsteps, I imagined it was to find out what truly happened to Father." For a few moments he's silent, and then he watches John closely. "This isn't related to Afghanistan, but I want the answer all the same.. If you had the chance, would you return to the army?" He asks, looking down into his teacup.

John listens and considers the answer he gets, nodding quietly and then he looks up slowly. "If I had the chance?" He repeats quietly as he gives it serious thought, then he looks back at Sherlock, lowering one hand to rest it along the younger man's lower leg, rubbing his shin for a moment. "No." He finally decides, shaking his head slightly. "I helped people over there, I won't deny that." he says quietly as he looks at Sherlock. "But being here, with you.. this is my life now. Helping chase down criminals with you. I don't think I could go back to a place like Afghanistan after living this life. I guess I'm a little too soft now." he says with a little smirk as he watches the other man, looking down at his hand on the detective's leg, rubbing lightly for a moment, fingertips trailing down over the pale, bony foot of his companion. "This is my life, and as strange as it might sound, I doubt that I could be away from you for that long." He adds with a little chuckle.

Considering this before putting his finished tea aside, Sherlock watches the older man in front of him. "Good." he says happily, smiling, his foot twitching a little when John touches it, since they've always been sensitive. "Your question." He prompts as he shuffles down on the couch a little, bending his legs and then reaching to grab John's ankles, pulling them under his legs so that no one ends up kicking sensitive parts.

John thinks for a few moments, finishing his tea and putting his mug aside as well. "How old were you when you realized you might like either gender?" he asks curiously, feeling himself blush brightly, avoiding looking at Sherlock because this is kind of an intimate question. And while they are in a relationship, he knows Sherlock doesn't like to talk about his feelings, no matter what he promised.

"I was thirteen." Sherlock explains as he looks up at John. "As you know, puberty usually comes in the teen years, and that is when anyone finds out who they are attracted to." He says as he looks at John. "I observed other boys talking about women, some of them even smuggled pornographic magazines into school to ogle at. You know my mind, John. When I find a problem, I need to collect all the data that I can. So I started to examine the forms of both men and women in order to see which I preferred. I noticed rather quickly that I didn't have a preference. I admired the forms of women and men equally. Of course, I knew which society would have preferred I like." he says before he smirks a little. "I was never one to conform to society standards." He says with a sly grin.

With an agility that John envies, he watches the detective shift and rock forward, feet going under him until he's straddling John's legs lightly as Sherlock ducks in to give John a quick kiss, quickly moving back to his previous position. Chuckling a little, John continues to watch the man in front of him and he nods. "I should have known it was something like that. I bet you went to a posh school, too. I can just imagine you as a teenager, in your school uniform, staring at people in that way you have, making them uncomfortable." he says with a little chuckle.

"It's my turn again, I had better make it a good one.." Sherlock says with a little smirk. "You said this is all new to you, didn't you have any encounters with men in the army?" He asks with a little smirk as he looks at the older man.

Turning an even brighter shade of red, John clears his throat a little, and avoids looking at Sherlock for a few moments, running a hand through his hair and rubbing the back of his head. "There were a couple of times.. Stress relief types of things, helping a mate out with a quick wank, but it never went into... kissing, or.. anything like that." he says with a little shake of his head. "Everything I have with you, Sherlock, is all new." Shifting uncomfortably for a few moments, the older man stares at the long legs of the detective.

Once again those long legs disappear as Sherlock shifts forward onto his knees, sitting on John's legs lightly around the older man's knees. "No need to be embarrassed, John. It's perfectly natural." he says with a slight smirk, keeping his position, slightly closer to John than before but not pressed against him, giving them both the illusion of not being too clingy or needy, while still satisfying any need for closeness.

Looking up at the detective, John rests his hands on the detective's knees gently, watching him and thinking about it for a few moments. He can tell the younger man is getting impatient, and he laughs a little.

"Give me a minute. I have to think up an equally embarrassing question for you."

* * *

**Ugh.. Sorry, sorry. I had this idea, and it just hasn't come out the way I exactly wanted it to. Sitting at the computer is hard today, I fell on my butt on some ice at work, which does not make my back feel good, and made it hard for me to focus on this tonight. But I didn't want to disappoint anyone by missing a chapter. :)**

**Anyway, that means this is the only fic I'm updating tonight, and even this update is.. not up to par. But in 21 chapters, I suppose I'm bound to have a dud or two. Heheh.**

**The next part of this should have more interesting questions/answers. If there's anything you want John/Sherlock to ask, feel free to message me, or leave a review or something, and I'll see what I can do!**

**Reviews/Comments welcome!**


	22. Chapter 22

It takes a minute as John considers what to ask his detective, and he finally figures something out, chuckling. "The dancing." he says simply, before he clarifies. "When and why did you learn how to dance like that?" He asks with a little smirk, figuring this ought to be a good story.

Making a little frustrated sound in the back of his throat and making a face, Sherlock sighs and nods. "I imagined that may come up." He says as he looks at his doctor. "Mycroft and I were both taught ballroom dancing when we were younger. As young men of wealthy parents interested in status, we needed to be able to impress others at large functions." He explains as he looks at John, but he knows that that will not be a sufficient answer, so he considers. "We were taught a lot of things that a young man of breeding should know. Social niceties, which fork to choose for which dinner, how to dance, sing, play an instrument." For a few moments Sherlock falls silent, and he watches John to see if the doctor is going to ask any more questions. He realizes that doesn't make up for any embarrassment, so he sighs, reluctantly getting up in an oddly graceful way. "Stay there." he says before he goes off to the bedroom, digging around in some boxes before he comes out with a DVD in hand. "My mother created this out of some VHS tapes we had, to make sure we had it preserved." Sherlock's tone implies that he does not agree with his mother in this matter, that the DVD had to be preserved. "We learned to dance at a.. school. Apparently my mother felt the need to record it one night." He says as he puts the DVD in, turning on the TV and returning to his place on the couch, straddling his doctor's legs around his knees again.

When the video loads up, it's a little fuzzy at first, then it focuses as the person behind the camera gets their bearings. It's surprising that Mycroft hasn't gotten this for blackmail material. The frame finally focuses on a young Sherlock Holmes, who as usual looks a little annoyed at being where he is, though that might have to do with the even younger girl hanging off his arm. "My cousin Millie." The detective supplies as he sees the somewhat suspicious look on John's face. As the video continues to play, pairs move into the area cleared as a dance floor, most of them kids under the age of 16, though it's hard to tell what age Sherlock is, his hair cut a bit shorter, wearing a suit. But then he takes Millie into his arms as the music starts, and his whole demeanor relaxes into one of enjoyment as he starts sweeping her gracefully around the room. They prove to be one of the most skilled and versatile couples that perform the waltz, the video lasting for the entire song, before applause makes it go all shaky and it seems the younger Sherlock is trying to shake off his cousin, and once again doesn't seem too pleased to be there.

Watching this with some shock, John just stares at the TV, snickering a little a she sees the detective's reaction to his cousin. He's still in awe slightly when he sees the way Sherlock moves around the floor. "Bloody hell, no wonder you're so graceful.." He says as he puts his hands on the detective's legs, sitting up a little to give him a quick kiss. "Thank you for showing that to me.." he snickers a little. "I wouldn't mind having another dance later, you know." he says with a smile. "Alright... try not to be too harsh with me.. I think we should expand this little Q&A session to anything, not just restricted to childhoods or Afghanistan. That way it doesn't end up being about all unpleasant things." he offers with a little smirk as he watches Sherlock.

Nodding a little in agreement, Sherlock quickly turns off the TV with a small frown, before he looks John over, not wanting to waste this opportunity to learn all the little things that he can't deduce about his doctor. "How old were you when you had your first sexual experience?" He asks, finding himself jealous of whatever girl was John's first, who received his attentions at such a young age.

Letting out a little whistle, John chuckles as he looks up at the younger man, shifting and stretching for a few moments before he reaches out to take Sherlock's hand in his own, threading their fingers together. "Wow, you don't pull punches, do you?" He asks playfully with a small grin as he looks at the detective. "I was 15, her name was Lily, she was my girlfriend of about three months. She was a year older than me. She brought me to a party, there was alcohol there, one thing led to another, and honestly I don't remember most of it." he explains as he looks at Sherlock. "I'm sure that it wasn't the best experience for either of us, but we dated for another month before she broke up with me."

Sherlock hmms a little and he smiles. "She was a lucky woman, I'm sure you couldn't have been too awful." he reassures, leaning in to rest his forehead against John's. "I'm a little jealous of your past lovers. It's ridiculous. You've ruined me, John. All these emotions." He says with a little frustrated sigh, but he gives John a quick kiss to reassure him that he's not pulling away or anything. "I don't regret it." He adds before he sits back. "Your question."

For a few moments, John just smirks up at the detective, understanding him and taking a moment to muss up his hair some more by running his hands through it slowly. "I'm glad you don't regret it." he reassures, giving his hand a squeeze before letting him sit back. "Hmmm.. alright.. Lets see..." he says too himself. "Why don't you and Mycroft get along? I mean, when did the rivalry start, or did you just never get along?" He asks as he watches Sherlock, rubbing his thumb against the detective's hand.

Having known that this would come up eventually, Sherlock is no more prepared for the actual question than he is for the theoretical question.

"That will take some time, you'd best get comfortable, John."

* * *

**This is partially inspired by a guest reviewer Jo, who wanted to know more about Sherlock's dancing. So there's a little fun tidbit that I hope you enjoy, Jo! I have another request to have them dancing again, so that will probably happen in the future as well! Because really, it's almost too cute not to.**

**I still have a few things that I want Sherlock and/or John to answer, but if you want any 'explanations' of things, just ask, and I will do my best!**

**And once again, thank you to all of my followers/reviewers/readers, you guys are awesome, and it's nice to know people are interested in my story still!**

**Reviews/comments are, as always, welcome!**


	23. Chapter 23

"Mycroft and I are seven years apart, as you may or may not know." Sherlock begins as he watches John, looking at their joined hands. "We attended the same schools, not at the same time of course. I was always in his shadow. I was every bit as intelligent as him, but he does have one advantage over me. He has the same observational skills that I do. He's intelligent, but he has charm. He can use societal rules to his advantage in order to climb the social ladder and fit in. I never understood those rules. Why should you be so polite to someone you hate, why can't you tell people the truth if they ask how something fits?" The detective says as he looks at John, and he genuinely looks confused as to the answers to these questions. "Mummy thought there was something wrong with me. She sent me to see doctors, therapists." He says as he considers it all. "Mycroft and I were somewhat close when I was smaller. I looked up to him, he was the only one who understood my mind, who didn't think that I was some sort of freak."

Seeing that the doctor is very disapproving, Sherlock smiles a little, leaning forward and resting his forehead against the older man's. "It's ok, John. I came to terms with this a long time ago." he says as he watches the other man. "I tried to make friends in school, but it never worked out. Is aid or did something wrong. Always. So I stopped trying, around the same time my father died. I decided that I didn't need friends. Mycroft was supportive, he said that it was better to have no connections. That people would always disappoint you." He says as he watches John. "I accepted that. And everything was fine, at least until Mycroft went off to college. By then I had been diagnosed as a sociopath, though a high functioning one, and I embraced it." he explains as he pauses, thinking for a few moments, giving John's hand a little squeeze. "I was being kept away from Ford, because everyone thought I was unusual, they didn't want Ford to catch it." he says as he considers, sitting back a little on his heels, looking away from the doctor toward the window for a moment. "I was alone. I was being isolated. Mycroft called at first, but only for about six months before he stopped altogether. I promised myself I would outdo him in every way. But no matter how good I was, no matter how many classes I got top marks in, Mummy always saw me as... different. As if I was born wrong, or with some sort of disease. Mycroft even joined in, after he came back one Christmas from University. It was then that I decided that Mycroft was no longer my friend or my brother, he was my arch enemy." He says simply, slowly turning his head back toward John. "I was 15." He says as he looks down at the older man for a few moments before he lowers his eyes from the doctor's face to his stomach.

To say that John is shocked about Sherlock being so open and blatantly honest would be a lie. He expected a short answer, something stupid and insignificant. He didn't realize he would get more of an insight into Sherlock's childhood than he ever has before. Halfway through all he wants to do is hold the younger man but he doesn't think the attention would be welcomed just yet, letting him get this off of his chest. When he's finally finished though, John sits up a little, putting his arms behind Sherlock's back and pulling him down so the detective's head is nestled down onto his shoulder, and John has as much of him wrapped up as he can. "Oh, Sherlock.." He whispers, kissing those soft curls, rubbing his cheek lightly against the other man's head. "I am so, so sorry.. You are not a freak. There is certainly nothing wrong with you, Sherlock Holmes." He says in a firm tone, shifting to caress one hand through the younger man's hair since it seems to be a weakness and one that relaxes him. "You were born with a brilliant, amazing mind. You can be seen as rude, but it's just that you're too honest for most people's sensibilities. You don't pull punches. But I don't think that means there's something wrong with you. You are the best man I think I have ever known." He says quietly, before he smiles. "Besides, I quite like you the way you are. Prickles and all." He murmurs, holding him tight.

It's a good thing that Sherlock's face is buried against John's neck because it means that he can reasonably hide the tears that are pricking the back of his eyes, blinking rapidly to make sure that none of them escape. Surely the doctor can feel his eyelashes moving against his neck but if he does he makes no mention of it. Taking a shuddering breath against John's neck, the detective takes in the scent of the other man, tea, clean linen and the spicy scent of his deodorant, along with a metallic tang. Sometimes he also smells of gun oil, but right now that scent is missing. So he hasn't cleaned his gun lately. Or even handled it. Shaking his head ever so slightly, trying to get himself off that train of thought, Sherlock instead tries to burrow deeper into John, sighing a little. "I believe it's my question." he says finally as he stays where he is for a few moments, stalling since he honestly isn't sure precisely what to ask John. So he lifts his head ever so slightly, placing his lips softly against John's neck to kiss his way upwards, softly along his jaw before he kisses the older man's lips lingeringly. Only then does he feel prepared enough to sit up and look down into those deep blue eyes.

John knows that Sherlock needs a few moments to recover himself, so he is more than content to give that to him, merely holding him and stroking his hair, shivering slightly and tilting his head up slightly at the younger man's attentions to him. After the kiss he just looks up into the other man's mercurial eyes as he lifts his hand and lays it against one of those smooth cheeks, thumb brushing against the sharp cheekbone. And very inappropriately, he hears the Woman's voice in his head, 'I could cut myself slapping that cheek'. Blinking that image away, he realizes he was frowning slightly and he smoothes his face out. But it's too late, he knows that Sherlock notices because he notices everything.

"What was that? And no, this does not count as my question. What was that frown for, what's wrong?" Sherlock asks in concern since it happened while John was looking at him, so he guesses that it probably has to do with him. He takes the doctor's hand away from his face, but keeps the hand in his as he tries to figure it out. Searching John's face carefully, Sherlock tries to deduce what the ex-soldier was thinking about but he's just coming up with a blank which is worrying him a little.

Shaking his head for a few moments, John smiles as he looks at Sherlock. "No, stop that. I can see your mind trying to tear itself apart trying to figure out what I was thinking." He says with a little smile. "I'm just being an idiot, strange thoughts crossing my mind. You once said you wondered what it was like in our funny little brains. Well, here's a bit of an insight into the winding paths of my mind. I put my hand on your face, and I was thinking about your ridiculous cheekbones. And then I thought about the Woman, who once said she could cut herself slapping your face, yeah?" He says before he shrugs a little. "Puts a bit of a damper on any amorous thoughts, but.." he sighs a little. "Since I was a bit jealous of her."

Surprise is the first emotion to cross Sherlock's mind when he hears that, then he frowns a bit himself as he looks down at John. "The Woman?" he asks, then he shakes his head gently. "Your mind is a mystery, John." He says in a confused tone before he smiles a little. "Why don't you tell me about that for my question? Why were you jealous of Irene Adler? That was ages ago, before you realized you had any romantic feelings for me. Long before it, in fact."

The question should not have caught John off-guard, especially considering he's the first one who brought it up, and the fact that Sherlock asked about Irene does not catch him off-balance, the thing that does however is when the younger man brings in the fact that John at that time did not realize he had any romantic attachment to Sherlock. "I.. guess I was jealous. I mean, I didn't think of it that way, I don't think. Something about her... always made me... uneasy. I... I didn't like the way she.. she looked at you." He finally admits, speaking slowly as he tries to figure everything out for himself. "She looked at you like.. like you were a piece of meat. Or just some sort of puzzle to solve. Not like you were a person with feelings. And she kept.. texting you. Those bloody texts." He says, starting to get annoyed at the woman again even though she's not been in their lives for almost three years. "You'd think, if someone doesn't text you back after the first two or three texts, that you would just bloody well stop. But no, she was persistent, wasn't she?" he says with a small frown as he looks at Sherlock. "And the gall of her, just showing up in your bed like that, waltzing around like she owns the place, making you doubt yourself and your abilities with her stupid little phone?" He is starting to get really agitated now and he frowns more as he looks at Sherlock. "Yeah, I didn't like her. Not one bloody bit. And yes, I was probably jealous of the way you paid attention to her when she was around. I know she was a beautiful woman, but you're Sherlock bloody Holmes, and at that time I really did think you were an asexual sociopath. Which was fine, but to think that and then see you so interested in a woman, and a dominatrix at that! Of course, now I can see you might have the tendency to like that sort of thing, but at the time it sort of pissed me off, yes." he decides with a firm nod of his head, starting to feel a little possessive of his detective.

The flood of words that comes from John quite surprises Sherlock as much as his earlier explanation must have surprised the doctor. He didn't realize that John felt so intensely about Irene Adler. And that is one of the fascinating things about John Watson. He always appears so calm on the surface, and sometimes things seem to ruffle him a little, but he's very deceptive, like a calm ocean with undersea currents, or an iceberg, as overused as that metaphor is it remains quite accurate. You only get to see the very tip of him or some of his emotions, you have no idea the depth or the breadth of his feelings on anything until you dive under the surface. "And you never realized you had romantic feelings for me?" Sherlock asks with some amusement as he looks at John, chuckling softly as he leans closer again. "You really are a dimwitted idiot." he says affectionately, kissing him again.

Of course, Sherlock does not anticipate the immediate and aggressive response to the kiss from John, who leans up into it, grabbing the back of Sherlock's hair as his possessiveness gets the better of him for a moment and he plunders the detective's mouth. After a few moments of such an aggressive kiss, he softens it, almost an apology, caressing and soothing any aches that he might have caused, nipping on the man's plump bottom lip for a moment, leaving him with a few soft kisses before he leans back on the couch. "Yes, it seems that when it comes to my feelings, I am a bit slow." he admits, blushing lightly as he chuckles and gets comfortable once again.

For a moment after the kiss, Sherlock feels a little dazed, having been caught completely unawares by the intensity of the kiss, and now his mind is trying to skip back onto its usual tracks from where it was derailed. It only takes a few moments before the detective focuses his eyes on the former soldiers in front of him, smirking a little. "Well, all is forgiven. I can't claim to be much better seeing as I didn't realize my own feelings until recently." He says with a little shrug of his shoulders, sitting back up and on his heels slowly again.

John can't help but smirk a little as he looks up at Sherlock, chuckling and then nodding quietly. He thinks about it as he watches the younger man, just admiring him. It's true that it took him a long time to realize his feelings, but the more he thinks about it, the more he realizes that he has had these feelings for a very long time, and he just didn't realize it. Most of his ex girlfriends were probably right about him being in love with Sherlock all that time, and that makes him smile a little as he watches his madman.

"Right, then. Guess it's my turn for a question, eh?"

* * *

**So I just realized I meant to have something else happen here in this chapter, but it turned into mostly just another chat. Because I sorta got distracted for a while by the newest Sherlock episode. Which.. Oh my god. Anyway.**

**I may have something happen before John gets to ask another question because frankly I'm sort of running out of ideas. I say that now, right before I'm going to go to bed, but watch me have more ideas tomorrow when I'm not so sleepy. Anyway, if anyone wants to see any questions asked/answered, feel free to let me know! **

**As always, reviews/comments are welcome and make me happy!**


	24. Chapter 24

Unfortunately before John can get his question in, the lights in the room flicker, and then go out completely, making the doctor look around for a few moments. "Bloody hell. We just lost power." he says before he sighs. "Come on, then. Lets close up the rooms we don't need, keep as much heat in as we can. At least the fireplace still works." He chuckles a little for a few moments. "Maybe we should move our makeshift bed to in front of the fire, hm?"

Grumbling a little for a few moments, Sherlock finally gets up. "If you insist." he says as he looks around, still having enough light that he can close the front doors, which effectively seals off the upstairs. Collecting some of the candles, he sets them about and then lights them, which makes the room glow gently.

Once Sherlock gets up, John stretches and looks around, going to move his end table and their two chairs out of the way, making room by the fire before he drags over some blankets and lays them out, layering them on the floor to give them some padding, then he puts down pillows and a few blankets they can use to cover themselves with.

"That is a little excessive, John. The fire will keep us quite warm." Sherlock observes as he looks at the little nest that John built, but he does slip under some of the covers closest to the fire, showing he might not object as much as he's saying.

Chuckling a little as he watches his detective, John goes to the fridge and brings over some bottles of water and the strawberries, smirking a little. "I wish we had some whipping cream, but considering the electric is out, we'll just have to eat them like this." he says as he slips under the covers facing the other man, placing the strawberries between them, the water being placed above their heads.

Not really caring about the strawberries himself, though he does like strawberries, Sherlock reaches out and picks one of the berries up with a small smile, pressing it against John's lips lightly until the older man takes a bite. "It's still your question." he observes as he shifts around until he gets comfortable, scooting closer to John so their legs can tangle together and share what little warmth they generate.

Chewing the strawberry gives John a few moments to consider the question, and then he sighs, laying down on his back and looking up at the ceiling. "Why do you love the violin so much? I mean, out of any instrument, why the violin?" He finally asks, turning his head to watch Sherlock, chuckling as he accepts the other half of the strawberries, giving the fingers a small nibble.

Smiling softly at his doctor, Sherlock feeds him the strawberry, then rests his hand on John's chest lightly. "That's a very complicated question." he says as he watches him. "The violin was best able to.. portray the emotion, to connect to my thoughts. It was difficult to learn, it didn't come easily to me. That alone made it more interesting. But it's also easy to carry around. The sound I also liked the best. It can be mellow, sharp, or soothing. It's a versatile instrument." The detective gets a sort of faraway look on his face. "I first picked up the instrument when I was 7.. mummy had introduced us to several instruments and I was passable with the piano but I grew bored of the others, nothing held my attention. Until I found the violin. The first time I heard it, I was completely entranced. I wanted to be able to pull such pure notes from an instrument." He shrug a little and smiles softly down at his doctor. "And it's all worth it, with the way it helps me think, and the way you enjoy it." He admits, flushing a little as he looks down at the bowl of strawberries, eating one himself.

Shifting to get comfortable again, John looks over at Sherlock and smiles, admiring the way the firelight makes his hair almost seem to glow, the way it and the candles warm his skin and features. It makes him look less like a marble statue, and more healthy. Quietly, he reaches up and touches his index finger to Sherlock's skin, and then he nods. "I can see it. You, as a child, being forced to do something as mundane as learn an instrument, until one truly inspires you." He says quietly, catching Sherlock's wrist after the detective takes a bite from his strawberry. The doctor pulls the other man's hand closer, and he takes the remaining bit of strawberry from his fingers, lightly licking the juices off of the long fingers before he lays back. "Your question." He says innocently.

Sherlock considers for a few moments. "There are so many questions.." he says as he takes a moment to think, laying a little more onto his stomach as he tries to pinpoint which question he wants to ask. "You have been asking me a great many things about my childhood." He starts slowly. "But I know nothing about yours. I know about your choices when joining the army and everything else after that, but what did young John Watson do? I don't have a specific question, there are too many. Tell me something about your childhood, John." he nearly demands as he shuffles a little closer and then turns his head to watch him.

"Blimey, Sherlock. You could at least narrow it down a little." John says with a small smirk, then he considers. "Well.. I guess my childhood was pretty normal. Mum stayed at home, dad worked at a bank. He.. liked his drink." he says as he considers for a few moments. "But, he took care of us. We weren't rich, we didn't have everything we wanted, but we had everything we needed." He says as he glances over at Sherlock. "Harry was the rebellious one, so I guess I felt like I had to be the good kid. I was teased for being the 'golden child'. Played football, rugby. I wasn't that smart, but I got good marks. Enough to get into medical school, obviously. But it was bloody hard for me..." He says with a little sigh. "I figured I had to be the one to make something of myself, stay on the straight and narrow. Joining the army, that was a bit of a rebellion, about the only one I managed." he admits as he looks at Sherlock for a moment, then he closes his eyes. "Had a few good mates, none that I talked to once I got into university. Took any job I could get that I could work in around my practices and school work. Wasn't much, but I did make a pretty good barista." he jokes with a little chuckle. "Summers I worked all the time. I wanted to stay out of the house, as much as that sounds odd. I was always looking for a bit of excitement, though I guess the only adrenaline rush I ever got back then was playing sports." Slowly, he opens his eyes, blinking a few times at the ceiling. "It wasn't bad. My mum and dad were killed in a car accident when I was 20. So it's just me and Harry now, and you know how well we get along. I never approved of her lifestyle, the partying and drinking and generally acting like nothing else cared except what fun she could have."

John finally shakes his head and turns on his side slowly to watch Sherlock, reaching over and rubbing his hand slowly over the detective's back in slow circles, sliding up to rub the back of his neck, playing with the very bottom of his curls for a moment before his hand slides back down his back through his t-shirt. "Always thought back then that I would get married, settle down, find a nice job somewhere, have kids... blimey, I would have been bored out of my skull." he says with a little grin as he looks at Sherlock. "Good thing I decided to join the army, huh? That decision.. that brought me to you." he says before he picks up the strawberries and sets them aside, slipping up next to the detective, leaning over to kiss his head through the soft curls, before he lowers his head a little more to kiss at the younger man's temple. "Eventually, at least." He adds after a moment of thought.

Humming in satisfaction, Sherlock smirks a little as he looks up at his doctor, then he nods slowly. "Yes, it did.." He just relaxes under the attention and in the warm heat of the fire.

"Everything in our lives has led us to this moment. And therefore it's all important."

* * *

**So, there we go. Some more info about the boys' past. I am going to try and get them back to something playful, but alchohol may need to be involved. :D I am a little bit inspired by The Sign of Three. **

**To Sue, my guest reviewer: Thanks for the insight! I know I tend to get into ruts and I catch myself using the same phrases over and over. I'll try and keep an eye on my smirking. ;) Glad you like the story though, despite my word usage. Heh.**

**Thank you so much to everyone else who reviewed, or is following! I have more followers on this story than any of my others, thank you for that! I hope I continue to give you a story worth reading.**

**Reviews/comments welcome!**


	25. Chapter 25

"Alright, I think that's enough of emotional talk and questions for now." John says brusquely as he looks at his detective, who looks so content and warm. Slowly, he continues to rub the other man's back slowly. "At least without a heavy dose of alcohol." He says before he leans over, placing a lingering kiss against Sherlock's shoulder before he gets up and walks to the kitchen to grab two glasses and the bottle of scotch that he keeps for those nights that nightmares wake him up. He quickly returns to their little nest on the floor, pouring them both some of the scotch before putting one glass in front of him. "If I'm going to drink, so are you." he decides with a little amused smile.

Propping himself up on his elbows when John walks away, Sherlock can't help but admire the backside on the man, even in the loose pajama bottoms. All too soon he's back, and the detective sits up more fully, keeping some blankets around his shoulders, until he and John are sitting side-by-side, facing the fire, blankets around their shoulders. Slowly, Sherlock takes a sip out of his glass and he makes a slight face. "Not my favorite brand." He admits as he looks at the bottle skeptically.

"Well not everyone can have expensive tastes, Sherlock. I'm sure you grew up around alcohol that is a hundred years old or something ridiculous like that." John accuses with a shake of his head. "Besides, after a while you won't taste it so much." he points out with a slight chuckle.

Sherlock smirks a little as he looks over at John for a few moments. "You don't have to get me drunk to have your way with me, John." he points out, hiding the small, impish smile behind the rim of his glass, before he takes another drink. "I should warn you, I'm a very affectionate drunk." He says as he looks at the doctor next to him.

John just snorts a little, downing the rest of the amber liquid in his glass before he pours himself another. "You're very affectionate anyway. Well, not overly so I suppose, but you like a good cuddle, I've noticed. Not that I'm objecting. You're like a bloody cat." he admits as he looks at his lover. "You even like to be pet." He teases as he reaches out and runs his fingers through Sherlock's hair.

He can't help himself, he really can't. Sherlock tilts his head into John's hand a little and sighs. "I've always had a sensitive scalp, it feels quite good when you do that." he admits, sighing in loss when John's hand moves away. "I already explained why I like to.. cuddle." He says the word with distaste, as if he hates talking about. But obviously he does enjoy actually doing it. "But that is not the sort of affection I was speaking of. Perhaps I should clarify that I get a little grabby and aggressively affectionate." He says as he pours himself another glass as well.

"Well, that sounds interesting. Are we going to have a wrestling match?" John teases, downing his second glass, already starting to feel some of the effects of the alcohol burning through his body since he hasn't really had anything to eat. "Am I going to have to fend you off?" he asks as he looks over the lanky detective.

Sherlock smirks a little, pouring himself another drink. "Maybe. I am sure there will be some wrestling at least." He offers seriously with a small chuckle, shaking his head as he watches John. "It would help if you didn't look so delectable." As he realizes what came out of his mouth, Sherlock's cheeks tinge with pink a little, and he sighs. "We should have had something proper to eat first." he says as he reaches for a strawberry. "This alcohol is going to affect us faster." He says as he eats the strawberry slowly.

John chuckles a little and then nods quietly. "In all probability, yes." he says before he leans forward, licking some strawberry juice from the younger man's chin before he kisses him deeply. "Mmm.. I like the taste of strawberry on your lips. Sweet, with a tangy edge. Like you." He says with a grin before he leans back, sipping his scotch.

"You have some very cheesy lines when you're drinking, john." Sherlock says skeptically, no that he minds the kiss or anything that just happened, he's just surprised by the words. "I imagine as you continue to get drunk you will become absolutely ridiculous." he says with a little shake of his head.

Laughing at that, John can't help the impish grin that spreads over his face. "Oh.. you haven't heard some of the best ones yet.." he says with a broad grin. "You learn a lot of them in the army. Oh.. here's an appropriate one." he says before he looks straight at Sherlock. "I'm not drunk, I'm just intoxicated by YOU." He says as he tips his glass toward the younger an. "Or.. hmmm..." He then leans closer, giving Sherlock a soft kiss before looking into his eyes. "Do you have a map? Because I'm getting lost in your eyes.." He says in a soft tone.

A slight arch of an eyebrow is all the response that John gets to the threat of really bad pickup lines. Sherlock shakes his head a little at the first line, then his eyebrows go up together on the second. "Honestly, John. Did either of those ever work for you?" he asks incredulously.

"Nope. But they were fun to pay attention to anyway. We would exchange them in the camps sometimes. Not much else to do when there's a lull, especially with medical." John offers before he grins a little. "Ohhh.. I've got the perfect one for this situation.. ready?" he asks with a broad grin as he takes another drink from his glass.

Watching his doctor with one part amusement, one part skepticism, Sherlock shakes his head for a few moments. "They were truly awful." he says with a nod of his head, "I'm ready." he says reluctantly, sipping his drink and then putting it aside.

Grinning a little, John puts aside his drink as well, schooling his features into a somber, serious expression and he puts his drink aside slowly as well, looking into Sherlock's eyes.

"I must be a snowflake, because I've fallen for you."

* * *

**SO, SO SORRY for not updating yesterday! I got caught up in finishing my 00Q story, and then starting another. Plus I've come down with a cold. But here is an update, with some absolutely hilarious pickup lines. I could have picked out some worse ones, but I figured that I would need something for when John was more drunk. I should look up some geekier pickup lines for Sherlock to use, that involve the periodic table or something. LOL.**

**I hope you all enjoyed this chapter there will be more to come! Also - WOW! 95 followers! I am so happy and grateful that you guys like my story so much! Just hope I don't disappoint.**

**Reviews/comments welcome!**


	26. Chapter 26

"That's it! That's going to be our new game. We're going to exchange cheesy pickup lines until one of us gives in." John decides as he watches the rather stunned look on Sherlock's face, snickering a little before leaning in to give those perfect cupid-bow lips a kiss. He is definitely getting a little tipsy now, but it's nothing to panic about just yet. When he breaks the kiss, he smirks a little. "You must be one hell of a thief because you stole my heart from across the room." he says with a little smirk.

Thinking that this is rather ridiculous but not able to think up a good reason why not to do it, Sherlock snickers a little. "I think you have an unfair advantage over me, John." he says with a shake of his head, drinking his scotch slowly. "You've been exposed to far more of this sort of thing than I have." He says quietly as he tries to think of something appropriate to say, finally dropping his voice to a lower register, knowing that John appreciates that, "You know, I'd like to invite you over, but I'm afraid you're so hot you'll skyrocket my air conditioning bill." He says with a small smirk as he looks John over slowly.

Laughing a little, John nods quietly. "That is definitely cheesy. Very good, Sherlock.." he praises as he watches the younger man, finishing his drink before he leans in for another kiss. He does think of another one, sobering as he pulls back to put his hand against Sherlock's cheek, thumb stroking the skin lightly. "If a thousand painters worked for a thousand years, they could not create a work of art as beautiful as you." he says honestly as he looks at the man, the first honest one he's pulled out.

For a moment, Sherlock is rather speechless, and he feels heat creeping up his cheeks, which embarrasses him and only makes it worse. He shakes his head slowly. "That one might be effective, I thought we were trying to be cheesy?" he asks, leaning forward and nipping at John's lips firmly, giving him another kiss, starting to become a little more affectionate. For a few moments he thinks hard, looking at John's face and he smiles a little. "No wonder the sky is grey today, all the blue is in your eyes." He says softly, stroking his fingers along John's cheek lightly, brushing the corner of his eye for a moment.

Not able to help himself because of the alcohol, John snickers a little and he nods quietly. "Alright.. mmm.. back to cheesy, then." he says before he chuckles. "Was your daddy a baker, because your buns are hot!" he says as he places a hand at the swell of Sherlock's arse, giving it a slight squeeze.

Before he knows it John finds himself on his back with the detective above him, laughing a little and glad he had already put his glass aside. Sherlock smirks a little a he starts to get the hang of this. "I wish I was DNA helicase so I could unzip your genes." He purrs before he leans down to nip at John's neck, a little harder than he has before, not even thinking about whether he'll leave marks.

Not that the older man minds at this point, he just laughs softly and buries a hand in Sherlock's thick hair. "Blimey, you would have to use that on the right person, though, or they really wouldn't understand.." he says with a little laugh, hissing as one particularly strong nip actually hurts a little. "You are like a candy bar: half sweet and half nuts." he says with a little snicker, shifting a little to get comfortable on the blanket futon they made.

"Did you clean your pants with Windex? I can practically see myself in them." Sherlock is a little quicker to return this time, shifting a little until he's practically on top of the doctor, hands sliding up to pin down John's arms before he kisses him again, deeply this time, cutting off conversation for either of them for a few long moments before he pulls away, grinning in a more open sort of way, showing the effects of the alcohol he's already ingested.

John snickers a little, but it's cut off by the kiss, eyebrows going up when he is pinned down, but he remains that way at the moment, despite his soldiers' instincts telling him not to put himself in such a vulnerable position. "Your lips look so lonely.. would they like to meet mine?" He asks with a little smirk before he shifts to try and capture those lips.

After a brief kiss, Sherlock sits up, not able to contain himself anymore, he just starts laughing, rolling over onto his back, his hands over his stomach as he laughs, the sound bubbling up from his chest, still quiet and deep, a better drug for John than anything else.

Amused but laughing a little as well, John sits up a little and gets them both drinks, grinning. "Mmm.. do you surrender? I can keep doing this all night.." He says with a little chuckle.

Sherlock finally calms enough to form a coherent sentence, and he grins broadly. "Give me some of your best ones, John.." he says as he reaches out to pluck one of the glasses from John's grasp, sitting up enough to sip at it.

Taking a small drink of his own, he considers for a few moments, then looks Sherlock over slowly before he says in an exaggeratedly flirtatious tone, "I know milk does a body good, but baby, how much have you been drinking?" He asks with another lascivious look at Sherlock, snickering and considering. "Oh.. this one I actually heard a bloke use in a pub once, and it actually worked, I was rather shocked." he says before he clears his throat a little, looking into Sherlock's eyes. "Was your father a thief? 'Cause someone stole the stars from the sky and put them in your eyes." He says with another small snicker, giving Sherlock a messier kiss before he sits back. "More?" He asks with a little grin.

Sherlock laughs again, running a hand through his hair. "My estimation of the general public just went down again, if that were even possible." he says with a shake of his head as he considers it, then he chuckles. "Alright.. one or two more, you have far too many of these taking space up in your brain, John." he scolds lightly.

"Alright.. let's see.. We'll do two more." John says with a little grin as he looks at his detective. "Were you arrested earlier? It's gotta be illegal to look that good." He says as he looks Sherlock over with a little smirk, watching the detective with a highly amused expression on his face.

Another small laugh comes from the detective, and he puts a hand over his mouth to try and stifle it, apparently not thinking it right that he should be laughing at such ridiculous pickup lines. Nodding a little, Sherlock smirks. "One more." he says as he looks at John, holding up one long finger.

Capturing that hand in his, John leans in to place a soft kiss on the inside of Sherlock's wrist before he nuzzles the fingers apart to place another soft kiss at the center of his palm.

"You look like a cool glass of refreshing water, and I am the thirstiest man in the world."

* * *

**First off, thank you to Erenem for the DNA pickup line, that was so very Sherlockian. :D**

**To jinglebells.00Q: Thank you so much! I'm very flattered, and grateful that you like my stories. Don't worry, I fully intend to keep updating all of my stories, even if I am lagging behind a little on my Divergent Paths one. It's being stubborn.**

**I hope you all enjoyed this silly little story. Some of the lines I've heard before (but not as serious, in-a-bar type lines), and some I think are actually sweet. I hope you enjoy reading it because I loved writing this chapter.**

**And once again, reviews/comments are always welcome!**


	27. Chapter 27

The laughter that bubbles up from Sherlock borders on giggling as he puts a hand over his mouth, snickering a little for a few more moment. "That is horrible." He says, though he can't help himself, he move over to straddle John's lap, draping his arms across the older man's shoulders, definitely a little more physically aggressive now that he has a few drinks in him. "Do you find me that attractive, John?" He asks, then he smirks a little. "I would love to learn all your buttons to be able to push them. You're so very.. English, John. Where is the soldier who takes what he wants? You're so reserved, I see the way you look at me.." He says quietly, leaning down to kiss John's neck softly, before he sighs softly across the skin there. "Why are you making us wait, John? What's so very wrong with doing what feels right?"

John rolls his eyes skyward in a silent plea for strength as he suddenly has a lap full of consulting detective, putting his arms around Sherlock to pull him close. "You know I do, Sherlock. You're bloody gorgeous. With your eyes, those cheekbones and your ridiculous hair.." he says, promptly burying his fingers in those curls. When Sherlock practically questions his manhood, John swiftly turns, pinning Sherlock to the blankets. "You bloody infuriating man.." He mutters as he looks down at the intoxicated man. "Yes, you are a gorgeous, sexy man. I have had more than one fantasy and dream about things I would like to do to your body." He says as he looks over the man underneath him. "But I am not doing any of them when we are both drunk, I want to remember every second of it when it happens. Blimey, until a few weeks ago, I thought you were asexual, I'm still trying to wrap my mind around this side of you." He admits as he looks down over the man beneath him, finally leaning down to press a harsh, demanding kiss to Sherlock's lips, more aggressive than he might otherwise let himself be.

The new position, the aggressive stance of John pleases Sherlock, in his intoxicated state, squirming slightly as he returns the kiss, trying to free his hands, but they are effectively pinned down by John. When their lips finally part, the detective is breathing more heavily, lips swollen slightly from the kisses. He licks his lips slowly, watching John with hooded eyes. "You wouldn't have me any other way, John." he says with a sly smile. "You know all of my faults, and you still find me more attractive than any of those odd women you went out with. I give you the danger and adrenaline rush you crave. With me you have someone to look after, and you know that I'll always come back. That I rely on you. You are the most important person in my life." Sherlock says quietly as he looks up at John, lifting his head to try and claim another kiss, letting out a little whine when he's denied.

"Bloody showoff." John mutters, pulling his head back when Sherlock tries to get another kiss, looking down at his detective. "You're right. You're infuriating, but I wouldn't have you any other way. I love everything about you, Sherlock. You drive me crazy in almost every way, some days I want to hit you, some days I want to snog you silly." He admits with a little sigh, shivering briefly, the flat's temperature starting to drop, despite the roaring fire not too far from them, finally releasing Sherlock in order to sit up, leaning over to grab the blankets but not moving from his position atop the detective.

Shifting to be more comfortable, Sherlock makes no move to try and move from his position, he just reaches out. "Take this off.. I'll keep you warm." he says playfully as he slides John's shirt up, finally getting it off over his head, leaving his tags to fall free. "Oh yes.. much better." He says in a pleased tone as he reaches up with one hand, fingers trailing over John's chest, grasping his tags and pulling him down by the chain. "Now come back down here and bring the blankets. It's cold." he grumbles with an almost petulant look up at his doctor.

"I knew wearing these bloody tags was going to get me in trouble." John says with a grin as he gets pulled down, but he pulls the blankets over them again, playfully pulling the blanket right over both their heads. He can't help but giggle a little when they're shrouded in darkness, finding Sherlock's lips after finding his chin the first time, snickering a little again before kissing him properly.

Sherlock laughs softly as well, returning the kiss before he reaches up to pull the blanket down so their heads are exposed at least. "Ugh.. you are supposed to be a doctor.. you shouldn't want to suffocate us.." He points out, chuckling a little again. "Where did those strawberries go?" he suddenly asks, distracted enough that when he lifts his head swiftly, he forgets how close John is, at least until their foreheads collide, then he groans and lowers his head immediately, hand coming up to rub his forehead.

"Fuck, Sherlock!" John curses in pain, rolling off of the younger man as he rubs his head, seeing stars for a moment. "Blimey, I knew you had a heard head.." he mutters, wincing as he continues to rub his forehead. "I'm going to have a ruddy bruise.." he grumbles, sobering a bit from that.

With a little pout, Sherlock rolls over and puts his head gently on John's chest. "I'm sorry, John..." he mumbles, cuddling up against the older man as he tries to ease his headache. "I'll get us something for the headaches.." he offers, slipping out from under the blankets and scrambling to his feet, stumbling down the hall to the bathroom to get the medicine, then he heads back with some bottles of water that he acquired along the way, finally shivering as he slips back under the covers. "Here." he offers, giving the pills and water to John before taking his own.

With a small groan, John nods and just lays there, finally retrieving the strawberries before the detective gets back. "Thank you.." he mumbles politely as he takes the pills, downing most of the water. "Here's the bloody strawberries." he mutters as he puts the bowl in the younger man's lap.

"Don't be cross with me, John.." Sherlock says, continuing to pout a little, placing a few soft kisses along the older man's shoulder, neck and jaw, picking up a strawberry and taking a small bite of it, then rubs it lightly over John's lips before kissing him and licking the juices off, before he eats the rest of the berry.

Sighing a little after the kiss, John shakes his head. "You're intoxicated and so am I, and it's my fault, so I can't be that cross for that.." he says, keeping his eyes closed as he blindly reaches over and picks up a berry to eat it slowly. "I always knew you had a hard head, I never expected to get confirmation for it.. Especially when Mrs. Hudson told me one time that you head butted that American that broke in.." he says with a little snicker.

Sherlock snickers a little as well, eating another strawberry slowly to keep his mouth occupied since his mind is a little fuzzy at the moment.

"Well.. I am certainly full of surprises."

* * *

**Sorry for the delayed post. I am going to try and get this to every-other-day updating, alternating between this one and my other Sherlock story, Divergent Paths. I tried updating all 3 of my current stories every day but that wasn't working well at all. Heheh. So I hope you all aren't very disappointed if you have to wait an extra day for me to post. :)**

**Not sure if I'm going to have another drunken John and Sherlock chapter or not.. and I'm debating between two things that could possibly happen next. There is the possibility of angst coming up! But not for another chapter or two. Or three. :)**

**Also.. over 100 followers! Oh my goodness! Thank you all so much for your interest!**

**As always, reviews are welcome, let me know what you think!**


	28. Chapter 28

John smiles a little as he thinks about that. "Yes, you are always full of surprises, Sherlock. You have to promise we'll dance again one day. That was actually rather nice." he admits thoughtfully, shifting his tags a little on his bare chest so that they don't try and strangle him.

Perking up at that, Sherlock smirks a little. "Then let's dance now, John!" he says cheerfully, bouncing up out of the covers and then trying to pull the doctor to his feet. "It will help keep us warm in any case, rather than just laying there." He says as he watches John.

"You bloody madman..." John says with a laugh as he lets himself get pulled to his feet. "Let me put my shirt back on, it's cold." He complains before he grabs his shirt and slips it on, pulling the tags out from underneath since Sherlock seems to like them for some reason or other. He can't help the affection in his voice, and he just chuckles as he moves closer to the man. "I bloody love you, do you know that?" He asks with a broad grin up at the taller man, putting one hand on his shoulder, and the other in Sherlock's hand, letting the detective lead because he's so bloody tall.

The smile that comes over Sherlock's face is luminescent to say the least, and he pulls John close against him. "I love you too." He whispers after putting his head near the other man's ear, giving him a little squeeze before he starts to hum some waltz or other, moving them easily around the room, the entire flat silent except for the sound of their bare feet on wood and Sherlock's humming.

John couldn't be happier than he is in this moment with his detective here, safe with him, not bored or frustrated, just happy and at ease for once. It's a rare thing for Sherlock, and if John has to get him tipsy once in a while to achieve this, than by God, he's certainly not above such things. Not if he gets to see the love of his life so happy and carefree. "I wish I could keep you like this forever, Sherlock.." He admits softly as he rests his head on the man's shoulder, just relaxing into his hold and letting himself be lead in the graceful waltz.

"Like what? Intoxicated?" Sherlock asks with a little giggle as he slows his movements a little, curling their hands in a little against his chest, his head resting against John's as he takes a deep breath, taking in the smell of his shampoo and that scent that is just uniquely HIM.

Shaking his head slowly, so as not to hit Sherlock in the jaw or something, John smiles. "No.. Happy. Content. Not bored." He tilts his head back a little to look into those beautiful, changeable eyes, slipping his hand across Sherlock's shoulder to rest it on the back of his neck, playing with a few curls that are starting to extend down his neck a little.

Sherlock just makes a happy sound in his throat. "I will always be happy as long as I have you, John." he says with a little smile, then he gets a look on his face like he's plotting something, and he grins, the dancing stopping. "Put your shoes and jacket on, John! I have an idea!" he says excitedly, scrabbling around until he finds some shoes which he stuffs his feet into, then throws on his jacket and scarf.

Being swept up by the whirlwind that is Sherlock Holmes, once again, John laughs and shakes his head, slipping his feet into boots and putting on his jacket. "What are we doing, Sherlock?' he asks as he gets dragged down the stairs of their flat, laughing a little and making sure he has his keys so they don't accidentally lock themselves out of the flat.

Grinning broadly, Sherlock just drags John out of the flat and into the street which is deserted, the snow still coming down in big, fluffy flakes, adding to the accumulation of a few inches already on the ground. Once they're out in the snow, Sherlock pulls John close to him again and he grins. "We're dancing, John!" he finally answers the question, giggling a little as he hums and starts to move them around in the snow in the waltz, the flakes falling silently around them. "Isn't it beautiful, John! London in the snow. The only time you'll ever hear it this quiet, everyone is afraid to go out." He says as he looks around for a moment, then looks back down at the doctor in his arms.

A little embarrassed but too tipsy to care, John giggles a little along with Sherlock as they dance in the snow, shaking his head. "You bloody gorgeous madman." he says with a broad grin as they move around in the snow. He's quickly starting to get cold, but for the moment that doesn't bother him so much because what they're doing is fun and ridiculous and he will never in all his life forget it. "It is beautiful.." he agrees before he pulls Sherlock down to kiss him soundly. "You're already cold.. let's go back inside, Sherlock." He says as he watches his flatmate, turning a little and tugging the man back toward their flat.

Pouting just a little, Sherlock nods a little. "Alright, fine.. I will listen to my doctor. I can't afford to get sick, and I don't want you to get sick." he says as he trails after his doctor, spreading his arms wide and spinning around for a moment, then stumbling up to the door, pressing up against John until they can get inside, then he giggles a little more as they go upstairs, stripping back out of their jackets and shoes.

John grins a little, "Under the covers again, by the fire." he urges Sherlock when they get their jackets and such back off, shivering as he follows the younger man, pulling the blankets firmly up over both of them and pulling Sherlock back into his arms once they're both laying down. "You..." He says before giving Sherlock a quick peck, ".. are insane." Another peck. "And I.." Kiss. ".. am insane.." Kiss. " .. for loving you." And he kisses Sherlock one more time as they settle in, getting comfortable against eachother.

"Maybe you are insane." Sherlock agrees with a small nod of his head. "But you're the only one that I could love." he says simply, pulling John closer to him, then he drags the older man over to the other side of his body. "Have to be careful of your shoulder, John." He says as he tucks the blankets around them again and he cuddles up for warmth, and because, well, he's feeling cuddly.

Smiling softly at his ridiculous boyfriend, John just looks into his eyes, allowing himself to be dragged around. "Thank you.. I'm sure it's going to be sore, I hope the power is back on by morning, because I'm going to need a bloody hot shower. And possibly a massage. But not right now. Too bloody cold, and I don't want to move right now." he decides, shifting so he can tuck his head up under Sherlock's. He is the shorter one afterall. "Besides, you can't do any of your experiments or play your violin or anything without power. Well, you could play the violin for a few minutes until your hands got too cold.." he says, shifting until he can slide his palm against Sherlock's, looking at the man's fingers before he meshes their fingers together and settles them back down, together this time.

Reluctantly because he doesn't really want to move, Sherlock releases John enough to reach above their heads for the bottles of water he left there earlier. "Drink, John. Studies have shown that hydration helps prevent the worst of a hangover." He says with a firm nod of his head, opening a bottle for himself and downing half of it in one go.

Sighing a little because he knows Sherlock is right, John moves away enough to open the cap of the water bottle, drinking it down most of it, laying on his back a little before he glances over at the fire. "Lets try and get some sleep, Sherlock..." He says quietly as he notices that it's getting late. "Maybe by the time we wake up, the lights will be back." He says hopefully, finishing his water before putting the bottle out of the way, shifting back over to stay close to Sherlock.

Nodding a little, Sherlock finishes his water as well before he adjusts the blankets around them so they'll be cozy and pulls the doctor close to him. They become a tangle of bodies and limbs, so closely entwined that it's hard to tell where one stops and the other begins, but it seems like they prefer it that way because it's easy for them both to slip off into sleep.

Baker street falls silent as the occupants of 221B join the rest of London in their slumber. And as the snow slowly starts to taper off, the city stirs as they start to do cleanup efforts. But the two boys in Baker Street remain blissfully unaware of this, they remain in the world of their dreams where all is safe tonight.

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**Wow, I almost didn't get this out tonight after doing 3 chapters on my Bond fic. Yikes! Apparently I just had to clear that out of my head though because as soon as I finished, this was flowing quite well. I know it has an air of finality to it, but I promise, it's not the end! I just got a little dramatic there at the end, that's all. :) Lots more to come!**

**Please let me know what you think, reviews/comments very welcome!**


	29. Chapter 29

Nearly a month after that drunken night and things fell back into routine. John went to work and helped Sherlock on cases. He gets exasperated with Sherlock and his experiments, though at least there are no body parts in the fridge anymore. He still gets angry sometimes and storms out of the flat. But there are differences now as well. Though the Yard knows they're together, they aren't very big on public displays of affection. They may stand closer together, exchange a different kind of look, or sometimes arrive on scene holding hands, but other than that, they aren't expressive... at least not in public.

Behind the closed doors of 221B things are different as well. Sherlock isn't always considerate, and he still gets himself in a strop sometimes when he's bored. But John is better about it now. He knows how to soothe his detective with a few kisses, sometimes just sitting and letting Sherlock rest his head in the doctor's lap to stroke his hair and relax him. And then there are lazy days where they don't get out of bed for hours, snuggling and kissing lazily, and those are mornings that John absolutely adores. Because there are also mornings where John wakes up to an empty flat because his boyfriend got an idea in the middle of the night. But there's always a note sitting on the bedside table, or a text telling him where Sherlock went.

Sherlock sleeps more now, and John has fewer nightmares when they share a bed, even if Sherlock isn't sleeping. The detective has gained half a stone because when push comes to shove, John will use his Captain's voice to make sure that Sherlock eats at least one meal a day. The doctor continues to wear his tags since Sherlock continues to like them. But there still is no sex, even if they often stop just short of it. They have other ways of satisfying each other, even if John's libido is more than just healthy.

One day while John is work, Sherlock actually bothers himself to go down and get the mail, leaving Mrs. Hudson's on the hall table before he heads up with his own. Some things from clients, and then he spots a very official looking letter. It's from the RAMC, and that worries the consulting detective. Still in his pajamas and dressing gown even though it's afternoon, he sits down on his chair and turns the letter over. It's addressed to John - of course it is! - so he shouldn't really open it. But then again, John understands how he is.

Before he can stop himself, Sherlock opens the letter and pulls it out, reading it over and feeling his heart drop into his stomach. He stares at the letter, then looks over at the fireplace slowly. He could. He could throw it in and John would never know. No, that wasn't right. Even Sherlock could realize that at this point. If his soldier ever found out, he would be more than angry, and it's something that could end their relationship. And that is something that Sherlock just can't risk. So carefully, he folds the letter back up, tucks it into its envelope, then folds the envelope in half to slide it into his dressing gown pocket. It wouldn't be long before his doctor would be home from his shift at the clinic, and then he would give it to him. It might tear out his heart, but he'll give him the letter. And then he knows his world will end.

Right on time, John arrives back from a long day at the clinic, and he smiles as he enters his flat, looking forward to seeing Sherlock and really wanting just to have a quiet night in, cuddling and watching tellie. And maybe a beer. He's taken to keeping a six pack in the fridge for these nights. It's not like he drinks them very often, so they last a while. Trudging up the seventeen steps to the flat, John is already removing his coat and scarf. "Sherlock? I was thinking chinese tonight, what do you think?" He calls, not sure where his boyfriend is, but he hasn't received a text to indicate otherwise so he knows the other man is in the flat somewhere.

"That's fine, John." Sherlock says as he walks over to John when he comes in, sliding his arms around the older man from behind, nuzzling his head down into the man's neck and taking a deep breath.

"Hey, hey.. What's wrong, love?" John asks, putting his hand on top of Sherlock's arms, leaning back into him reassuringly before one hand slides up to run through his hair. "I'm fine, I didn't get accosted on the way home.. did something happen while I was at work?" This was a rare thing for Sherlock to be this clingy, as if something is wrong, without him receiving a text from a distressed detective.

Instead of responding to that question, Sherlock remains sullenly quiet, clinging to his doctor for a few more moments before he finally starts to release him. But he doesn't look him in the eye, just produces the letter from his pocket and holds it out to John. "I opened it." He states the obvious, but it's more of an apology, and a sort of 'and I am still giving it to you' implication in his tone, having been trying to occasionally make him proud.

With a little smile, John nods a little. "It's alright, love." he reassures, giving the detective a soft kiss, still worried as he unfolds the envelope, frowning when he sees the symbol on the front, and finally pulling the letter out from the inside. When he reads over the letter, he steps to the side twice and slowly sits down on the couch, staring at the contents. Two members of his former unit have gone MIA, they suspect that they have been kidnapped and are being held as prisoners of war. Apparently their former commanding officer, knowing how tight the unit used to be, has contacted them all to get them together for a formal rescue operation. Including John, who will be temporarily reinstated for the duration of the mission, which is estimated to take no longer than three months, one month prep to get those who were discharged already - like John - back into fighting condition, and then two to find the other soldiers. It's not an order, it's a request, more of a courtesy.

And John wants to do it. He was really close to those men and women in his unit, they were a family, and he feels bad for not keeping in touch with them more once he was invalided home. They saved each other more times than John can count, not only out in the field, but just by being there for one another. There's just one problem, and that is the tall man standing beside him, fidgeting with his dressing gown in a obviously nervous and uncertain way. Now the way he was accosted when he came home suddenly makes sense. Sliding down the couch a little, John holds out his hand to Sherlock, drawing the younger man over to sit down beside him. For now, he puts the letter down on the coffee table, turning his attention to his insecure boyfriend. Not something he would ever have thought Sherlock capable of before Christmas.

"Oh, Sherlock.." John says quietly, leaning in to give him a reassuring kiss before he pulls back. "Can you understand why I want to do this, love?" He asks quietly, keeping his tone quiet and gentle as he looks at the younger man, hand cupping his cheek, stroking his skin softly with his thumb.

Very much like a feline he sometimes resembles, Sherlock tilts his head into the warm, calloused hand and rubs his cheek into it gently. "Yes, I do understand.." he says quietly in a small, unsure tone. "I don't want you to go." He adds shortly afterwards, looking up into his eyes. "I don't want you to leave me, John." he says as he looks into the dark blue eyes of his doctor.

Shaking his head for a moment, John watches the gorgeous but vulnerable man in front of him. "You know that this doesn't have to change anything between us, right? We'll just be long-distance for a few months. I'll take my laptop, we can video chat, talk on the phone, exchange emails when I have reception. It just means that I won't be here, physically with you, for three months. We can handle this. You can do cases without me. Hell, you talk to me when I'm not here anyway, and you lasted two years without me, might I remind you." He points out as he watches the younger man.

Sherlock can't help it, he pouts at the man in front of him. "It won't be the same!" He cries, leaning over and putting his head down on John's lap, feet sweeping up onto the other end of the couch. "You won't be here to yell at me over my experiments, you can't help me at crime scenes, you can't kiss me, you won't be able to keep me from getting bored." He objects as he nuzzles his head down into John's lap gently.

Nodding a little, John chuckles when he ends up with a lap full of consulting detective, running his hands through the soft brunette curls. "I know, Sherlock.." He soothes quietly as he runs his hand down over the soft, vulnerable skin at the back of Sherlock's neck, then back up into his hair. "I'm not saying it won't be hard. But we can do this. I waited for two years for you, Sherlock. Surely you can manage three months without me." It's a dirty trick, and he knows it, but the doctor really feels like this is something he has to do. He owes it to his unit.

A little sigh is given from Sherlock, and he grumbles a little. "I won't stop you from going, John. I know you want to, and I know you feel you need to. You're a good man and you naturally feel loyal to those you served with. Plus you're getting older, and I'm sure one part of you wants to prove to itself that you can still be the soldier if you need." He says with a little shake of his head. "Promise me you'll come back to me, John." He says before he slowly sits up a little and crawls fully into John's lap, straddling his thighs, facing him.

Adjusting to the new position, John puts his arm around the thin man, pulling him in for another light kiss before just holding him tight. He doesn't see this as a hugely dangerous mission, so he just nods. "I promise, I'll come back to you, Sherlock.." he says as he continues to stroke the man's hair slowly, placing a soft kiss on his shoulder, otherwise just holding him. Only two or three times has he sees Sherlock this clingy, and it's usually after something bad has happened. A near-death experience for one or both of them, or something that triggers what few insecurities that the detective has.

Seeming content with that promise, Sherlock nods a little against John's neck. "I know you won't leave for a few weeks, but before you go, I want one more thing, John." He says in the most serious of ways, pulling back to look into the doctor's eyes.

For a few moments John considers how dangerous that could be, before he just nods a little as he watches Sherlock. "Alright, what do you need, love?" He asks, rubbing the younger man's legs, then up his sides and his back slowly, trying to soothe and comfort him.

Sighing a little, Sherlock leans forward, giving John a slow kiss that starts off as a teasing brush of lips, then turns into a deeper kiss but still sensual, deepening it a little more before he finally pulls back, looking into the older man's eyes as his arms slide around him.

"I want you to shag me senseless before you leave."

* * *

**Ramping up for some interesting stuff coming up! I am super-inspired, so I even might get another chapter up tonight. We'll see what happens. :D**

**I hope you all enjoy! Please let me know what you think!**


	30. Chapter 30

John's breath catches in his throat, and he licks his lips, nodding a little. "I think I can definitely do that, Sherlock.. I'll need something to think about on those cold desert nights.." He whispers softly, pulling the younger man in for an intense kiss, before he breaks it, giving the side of his detective's hip a little slap. "Come up, up you go. I need a cuppa, and you can order food, then we can settle in for a night of movies, what do you think?" he offers, removing his boots when Sherlock gets off his lap, then he runs a hand through the younger man's hair, handing over his cellphone and getting up. "I'm glad I have a few weeks. I'll have to quit the clinic, I can't expect Sarah to hold my position for three months, and I'm glad I can give her proper notice."

Still pouting a little at being dislodged from his very enjoyable seat, Sherlock takes the phone and calls their order in, putting the phone on the coffee table when he's done before he gets up, stepping up onto and then over the coffee table to follow John into the kitchen. "This is what it takes to get you to quit that place?" he grumbles as he walks toward the older man, putting his arms around him.

"Well, I can't say that I object to the cuddling. You're going to be a little clingy until I leave, aren't you?" The former soldier asks playfully as he puts one hand over Sherlock's, twining their fingers together as he goes about making tea with the other. "I want you to promise me something, too, Sherlock." he says as he turns a little to look into the taller man's eyes. "You'll take care of yourself while I'm gone. Promise me. You'll eat at least one meal a day, and you'll get proper sleep." He says in a firm tone as he watches him.

Reluctant to make those promises, Sherlock finally sighs a little, knowing that he can't let John go while the older man is worrying about whether or not Sherlock is doing ok. "I promise, John. I won't be perfect, but I'll do my best." he says with a small nod of his head, nuzzling into John's grayish blonde hair, letting out a little huff of air. "Are you making me tea, too?" He asks hopefully.

"I always make you tea, too, don't I?" John says with a slightly scolding edge to his voice, squeezing the man's hand. "Go on, go find us a film to watch, I'll bring the tea in when it's ready." He says quietly, looking down at the long-fingered hand in his, looking at the contrast between their skin, his own still a bit tanned even though it's been almost four years since he was in Afghanistan. At least he kept in shape, that will help with the month-long training.

Reluctant to move away from John, but not wanting him upset, Sherlock reluctantly moves away but not before claiming another kiss, trudging back into the living room to flop down dramatically on the couch, picking up the remote to flip through the TV channels.

The night passes quietly after that, the two of them eating Chinese and cuddling on the couch, exchanging soft caresses and kisses. There's nothing hurried about it for them. They know that in a little under a month John is going to be away, and then quiet nights like this will not happen for a long time. So they savor every touch, committing them all to memory.

The next morning John heads into to work, leaving his detective doing some sort of experiment. The doctor places a soft kiss on his head, and a light caress against the back of his neck, trying not to disturb him or his experiment. He hates what he's about to do but as soon as he gets into work, he makes his way to Sarah's office, knocking on the door and waiting to be let in.

"Good morning, John." Sarah says as she looks up from her desk, smiling a little. Surprisingly, even though them dating didn't work at all, and that first day of work was disastrous, and then he sort of fell apart after Sherlock 'died', Sarah was always there and gave him the job back and he did his best to be a good employee.

John sighs a little as he looks at Sarah, then he steps forward and holds out the letter toward her. "My letter of resignation, and my two weeks' notice." He says as he looks at the woman across from him. "I.. I'm going to be going back into the army for a bit, just one mission I'm needed for, but it's going to be three months at the least. Well, they say three at the most, but you know how that goes." he says with a little smile. "I leave in three weeks, so I wanted to give you as much time as possible to hire someone else." Still, he feels a little bad about this, but he isn't even going to ask Sarah to hold the spot for him after everything she's done already.

Looking more than a little stunned, Sarah reaches out and takes the letter slowly. "Uh.. wow, I don't know what to say, John. This.. isn't expected of course." She says as she looks at the letter. "Are you sure this is what you want? What about Sherlock?" She asks, arching an eyebrow.

"He managed on his own for two years, and that was without anyone around. He can manage for three months." John says with a small smirk. "Everyone seems to forget that." He says with a certain amount of exasperation, shaking his head a little. "We've already discussed it." he says simply as he watches Sarah. "Besides, there's phone's and video chat and emails." he says with a little shrug. "We'll make it work."

Nodding a little, Sarah smiles softly. "I'm glad. You've been really happy this past month, John. Happier than I've ever seen you. I'd hate to see that disappear. You'll have to email me, too, while you're away, just let me know you're doing alright." She says in a firm tone.

John nods, straightens and salutes her. "Yes, ma'am." he says in his best military tone, not his Captain's voice, just military grunt, and then he smirks a little. "I'll talk to you later." He offers before he turns and heads back down to his office, thinking about Sherlock the night before and his insecurity about John coming back to him, wondering what he could do to both stake his claim and prove to the younger man that he'll come back.

By the end of the day he's got only one idea and it's a strange one. Not to mention it's one that he isn't sure Sherlock will go for, but thankfully because of a former case he already has the information he needs. It takes four stores before John finds that he's looking for, returning to the flat with a little grin on his face.

"You're late." Sherlock grumbles, at least dressed in one of his normal suits, though the jacket has been set aside, and the sleeves are rolled up to his elbows.

"That is because I wanted to find a little something for you." John says with a little smile as he walks over to where the detective is sitting at the kitchen table. If it weren't for the change in appearance, the doctor would wonder if the other man had moved at all. He runs a hand through his hair a few times, placing a kiss on the top of his head, his fingers rubbing along the back of Sherlock's neck slowly. "Do you think you can pull yourself away from that for a bit?" he asks with a little smirk as he watches him.

Sherlock hums a little and then lifts his head from the microscope, which presses it back against John's hand gently, looking up into his eyes. "I can." He says with a little smirk as he watches the doctor. "Why did you buy me something?" he asks curiously as he looks at John curiously.

"Because you were so worried about me coming back to you, and I started to get worried that someone will tempt you away from me while I'm gone.. Absence makes the heart grow fonder, but they also say, out of sight, out of mind." He says as he watches the man before him, glancing at the kitchen table before he leans back against it, pulling something out of his pocket and holding it in his closed fist, holding it out to Sherlock.

The world's only consulting detective shakes his head. "I have not felt attraction to anyone else in over a decade, John. I very much doubt someone will magically come along to take me away from you just as you happen to leave the country." He points out in a slightly bored and exasperated tone. But he holds his hand out, palm-up nonetheless, looking as the little present is dropped into his hand. For a moment he's more than a little confused as he picks up the ring. It is a ring, but by John's stance it's not an engagement ring. Which is a relief. So with his other hand he picks up the silver colored ring, turning it over and chuckling in a low tone when he sees the word 'Taken' engraved along the outside.

"Right ring finger. That's what I sized it for. It's a promise ring." John explains as he watches Sherlock. "A promise that I'll come back, and also to tell everyone you are strictly off-limits." he says with a playful growl in his tone, leaning in and kissing Sherlock deeply for a few moments. When he pulls away, he then pulls something else out of his pocket, a simple silver chain. "Just in case you didn't want to wear a ring the proper way.." he says as he holds it out to Sherlock.

Smirking a little, Sherlock takes the chain, and he shakes his head. "I'll keep it in case I need to remove it for any reason." he says before he takes the ring and slides it onto his right ring finger, smirking a little. He's glad it's not the left, not wanting to explain to people that he's not engaged or married or anything like that, but people he knows will surely notice the extra bit of jewelry.

Reaching out to take the brunette's right hand, he lifts it gently and kisses his knuckle near the ring, brushing his thumb over the ring gently and then he smiles as Sherlock. "I like that." he says with a nod of his head, kissing Sherlock softly again. "Go on.. back to your experiments, then, love." he says quietly, pushing away from the table to go and make some tea.

Sherlock chuckles a little and then nods quietly, looking at the ring and adjusting it slightly on his finger as he gets used to the weight, watching John move away with a slightly amused look on his face before he turns to his microscope to finish what he was doing before John inevitably made him eat.

"My, my, John. Who knew you could be so possessive."

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**Oof. 30 chapters! I think this is my longest fic yet. I hope no one out there is getting bored. But I suppose with over 100 followers, I must be doing something right! Gosh, every time I see that number, it boggles my mind since to me this is just a silly little drabble to keep myself entertained. I'm glad that I can entertain you all, as well!**

**I had the idea for a ring while doing a lot of driving for work today, and I just thought it was kind of perfect, very simple and to the point, something that Sherlock could appreciate. :)**

**I've got lots to happen while John is gone, too, though the next chapter will probably be John leaving which will be a sad chappy, I think.**

**Please let me know what you think! Comments/reviews most welcome!**


	31. Chapter 31

The next days, and into weeks, are somewhat quiet and strained. They take a case or two, and the rest of their family and friends are informed of John's pending departure for a few months. John gets everything taken care of paper-work wise, gets his physical to make sure he's even fit enough to consider this. Which of course he is, in a large part thanks to Sherlock.

The last week, they finally go that step from being partners to being lovers, devoting an entire 12 hours to it, only having waited so long to make sure they were both clean, neither of them wanting any barriers between them when it happens. Neither of them disappoint.

But those weeks are tinged with the knowledge that soon it will be over. It won't be the end, but the easy days of simply existing, enjoying the other's company, bickering over silly things about the flat like who is going to do the shopping. Crime scenes and the joy John feels in watching his detective solve a crime, being brilliant and insane all at once. And the compliments that invariably follow Sherlock's simple - to him - deductions.

They bought John a new laptop to bring with him so that they could Skype or chat, and generally keep in touch, John having to take a while to get used to it. It's newer and faster, but it's nothing fancy or special, just a little more heavy-duty. And thanks to Sherlock interfering to get his brother involved, it is one of the most sturdy and secure laptops on the planet. After designing tech for the destroyer-of-technology also known as James Bond, Sherrinford Holmes - aka Q - was more than happy to modify something for someone who actually takes care of their tech.

The night before John has to leave London starts out strained. They try to pretend like it's any other night, eating and sitting down to watch a stupid show or three, but it's obvious that that's not just any other night. John finally just sighs, turning and pushing Sherlock down against the couch, so that the detective's head is propped up against the arm of it. "It's going to be alright, Sherlock.." he says quietly, able to feel the tension coming off the younger man in waves, as he slowly moves over and lays down on top of him. He's noticed that sometimes feeling is better than talking for the younger man.

Sherlock looks up at John, just staring at him, memorizing him as he is now. Slowly, he lifts a hand and traces his fingertips over John's forehead, down his nose, then over his cheek and along his jaw. One hand slides up to cup his jaw gently, thumb lightly brushing against those thin lips that he's learned have been so expressive. "Is it?" He asks softly as he looks up into those deep blue eyes that are so much like twin pools that he can lose himself in. "I don't want you to go." The words come out as barely a whisper, just a movement of lips and tongue and an exhalation of breath.

Sighing softly, John places a light, sweet kiss on Sherlock's lips, using one hand to stroke back his hair slowly. "I know." He says quietly, resting his forehead against the younger man's. "I have to.. God, I never thought it would be this hard to leave you. It's like the Fall all over again, only this time I know you're here, safe.." Another soft kiss is placed against the detective's lips. "Promise me. Promise me you'll keep yourself safe. I don't care who you have to call, what you have to do. Keep yourself safe." He says in a firm tone, feeling his throat closing up a little.

Nodding a little and responding to the kisses with an almost sort of desperation, Sherlock puts his arms around his doctor, hands grasping onto the material of his shirt. "I promise." He whispers fervently as he hooks one leg around the older man's to try and pull him closer, trap him, keep him from leaving. "I'll be safe. I'll work, I'll even be nice to Anderson and Donovan, just don't leave." He can't keep himself from begging a little, his voice breaking but he refuses to shed any tears. Not tonight, not in front of John. No, he'll save any of that for when John is gone, when he is alone in the flat.

A little relieved, John can't help but smile a little. "Sherlock.. even if I wanted to, I couldn't back out now. I have to go tomorrow. It's not the end of the world." He says as he strokes his hand through that hair again. When it seems like the detective is about to say something again, John kisses him to keep him quiet, then he sighs. "Shhh. No more, Sherlock." He says softly as he caresses the brunette's cheek, those ridiculous cheekbones and along his jaw gently. "I'm leaving in the morning. Lets not spend our last night here arguing about whether or not I should go." He says quietly, resting their foreheads together before he lowers his head to nuzzle against the younger man.

Trying to please John in this case and be quiet, Sherlock just clings to his lover, his boyfriend, his doctor, the man that he's fallen in love with despite his desire to remain married to his work. "You'll call, or text, or something at least once a week." he doesn't phrase it as a question, this is something they discussed before, that the doctor needs to keep in contact with Sherlock, so that his brilliant mind doesn't go overboard.

Nodding a little in confirmation, John places a few soft kisses along Sherlock's neck reassuringly. "I promise, Sherlock. You'll hear from me at least once a week.. probably more. I have to make sure that you're staying out of trouble." he says quietly before lifting his head. "I love you, Sherlock." he whispers softly as he looks down into those blue-green eyes.

"I love you too, John." Sherlock says softly as he clings to the older man for a few moments, once again examining his face before he smiles a little. "Take me to bed, John." He says quietly, thinking the best way to shut him up is to spend time making John very tired.

John does as requested, and most of the night is spent making love, gentle sometimes, other times rough and desperate as if they realized that this may be the last night they get to be together for three months. They fall asleep together in a tangle of limbs and sheets in the early hours of the morning, John's alarm going off far too soon for either of them.

The morning is a somber affair, with showering and John packing up the last of his toiletries, then eating breakfast and finally, he dresses in his fatigues before calling for a cab. When the cab is there, the doctor takes one last look around Baker Street, wanting to remember it just the way it is. He knows that it will be much different when he comes back, or at least it will seem that way to him. Hefting his duffel to his shoulder, John takes a deep breath before he heads downstairs to where his detective is waiting, looking up at where he stands by the open door. Slowly, he lowers his duffel down to rest it on the ground before he looks up into the nervous, sad eyes of his detective.

"Be careful." Sherlock says instead of what he really wants to say, which is 'don't go', again, but he doesn't want John to go away angry. He is trying to remain stoic, keeping himself purposely away from the doctor a little to keep his resolve, though it's crumbling quickly.

Nodding, already falling back into a more military stance as soon as he put on the uniform, John looks at Sherlock. "You, too." he says quietly, hesitating as if he's not sure if his touch will be welcome or not. "Fuck this." He mutters before he grabs Sherlock and pulls him into a tight hug and a searing, passionate kiss, feeling tears pricking behind his eyes. "So help me, Sherlock, if I hear about you doing anything stupid.." he trails off threateningly, pressing their foreheads together again, one hand resting along the back of the taller man's neck. "I'll text you tonight, when I land." He reassures, giving him another passionate kiss before he picks up his duffel and strides out the impatient cabbie, sliding his bag in before he turns to where his detective is still standing framed in the doorway. Snapping off a sharp salute, though he smirks a little during it, he slides into the cab and gives the address, sitting back and glancing once more at Sherlock before he trains his eyes straight ahead.

Smiling weakly when he sees John salute, Sherlock stares after the cab before he slowly closes the door. He manages to make it up the seventeen stairs to the flat before he loses all of his composure, letting out a single sob as his legs give out and he slides down with his back against their front door, knees pulled up to his chest, hands sliding into his hair and grabbing handfuls of it as he finally gives in to his urges and starts sobbing, sliding sideways to curl up on the floor. He swore he would never let himself break down like this again, not since one time in University.

When the initial sense of sadness and loss passes, the lanky detective manages to pull himself to his feet and stumble into the bedroom, falling down onto the bed and pulling John's pillow close to him, inhaling the man's scent as one thought goes through his mind over and over.

'Come back to me, John.'

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**I... am not even sure what I should say. I teared up. This broke my heart a little to write.**

**John is going to disappear for a few chapters except here and there, I am going to focus on how Sherlock copes with John being gone. And then he will be back!**

**Comments/reviews welcome!**


	32. Chapter 32

For the first two weeks, no one sees Sherlock. He locks himself in his flat, working on as many cold cases and other things that Lestrade will let him have. The Detective Inspector never sees him though, only receiving texts and seeing Mrs. Hudson when she answers the door to accept the folders on Sherlock's behalf.

Even Mrs. Hudson doesn't see Sherlock, every time she comes up the door is locked, so she places whatever it is outside the door and it's gone later on when she goes to check on it. It worries her, that she doesn't see Sherlock. Presumably everything goes ok between Sherlock and John because no one hears from the doctor either which means he's not worried about Sherlock, oddly enough.

One night however the silence is finally broken.

Sherrinford Holmes, the youngest Holmes brother, is all set to relax in his apartment after a long day, have a cuddle with his favorite agent - turned boyfriend - by the name of James Bond, when his phone beeps. Since his brothers self-imposed silence, everyone has been on alert, but the voyeur Mycroft hasn't said anything either, so Ford hasn't been worried When he retrieves his beeping phone, he realizes it's his personal one, not his work one, and he reads the simple text which sends a chill of fear down his spine.

Danger night. - MH

"What is it?" James asks from his seat on the couch, getting up and walking over to the younger man to put an arm around him, when he sees the already-pale complexion get even more sallow.

Before the Quartermaster can reply, the phone in Ford's hand rings, and he stares at it in shock since no one calls him, most people prefer to text him, especially his family. And a quick look at the phone confirms that it's not his mother. "Hello?" he asks as he picks up the phone, glancing at James.

"Ford, I need you to come over and keep me from making a monumentally stupid mistake that would make John very upset with me." Sherlock's strained voice comes along the line.

For a moment, Ford is too shocked to say or do anything, but he quickly recovers. "I'll be right over, Sherlock. do not move, do not do anything until I get there." he says in a firm tone, not waiting for a response, he just hangs up before he looks over Bond. "I need you to drive me to my brothers." he says in a firm tone, since he doesn't really do a lot of driving himself, though he does technically have a license.

Although he isn't sure what's going on, James just nods, ready to give his Quartermaster whatever he wants, so he grabs up his keys and his jacket, waiting for Q until they head down to his Aston Martin, breaking a few speed limits on their way to Baker Street, When they arrive, before Q can say anything, James reaches over and puts his hand behind Q's neck. "Call me when you need to be picked up." He's not going to demand when that might be or anything, just leans over and gives him a soft kiss.

Ford nods a little, returning the kiss, "Thank you, James." He says in relief with a small smile, before he adjusts his glasses and gets out, walking up to the plain black door and knocking. He might be able to pick the lock but he figures the land lady might not like that.

Mrs. Hudson opens the door and looks at the young man on the other side curiously. "Oh, I'm sorry, dear, I don't think Sherlock is taking cases at the moment.."S he says thoughtfully as she watches the put-together man at the door.

Ford nods a little to Mrs. Hudson. "That's quite alright, I'm not a client, thank you, I'm Sherlock's younger brother and I really must see him. Thank you for your assistance, Mrs. Hudson. Please, call me ford." he says quickly and almost in passing before he slips by the landlady, taking the stairs two at a time. Despite never having been there, he knows his brother and he has heard a few things from Mycroft, so he knows which flat is his. The door was left unlocked in anticipation of his arrival, so it's easy for him to burst into the flat.

What Ford sees when he comes in, nearly breaks his heart. His brother, Sherlock Holmes, is sitting on the couch in his pajamas and dressing gown, curled up with his knees to his chest and arms around them against one corner, staring at the coffee table. The table itself has been cleared of nearly all its contents, except for a sleek looking box and several other things. A baggie with traces of white powder in it, a spoon, a lighter, rubber tubing and a needle filled with some sort of slightly foggy liquid. It's all of Sherlock's drug paraphernalia, and it appears as if the detective almost broke down and resumed his drug habit in the face of not having his doctor around.

"Bloody hell.. you absolute and complete prat." Q breathes, angry and annoyed. Snatching everything up from the table, he goes to empty the syringe into the toilet and flush it before he packs everything for safe disposal later on. Finally he storms out into the main room, crossing his arms over his chest as he confronts his brother. "What the hell were you doing?" He demands, leveling a glare at Sherlock that has made many a double-oh cringe.

"I wasn't.. I just wanted it to stop." Sherlock says as he reaches up and grips his hair with one hand, shaking his head for a moment. "I can't make it stop, everything in here.. I can't focus. John isn't here, and I.. I don't feel like I can function without him. It's completely ridiculous. Of course I could function before, and I will again." he says before he sighs, hugging his knees close and rocking back and forth a little.. "I wasn't thinking, the next thing that I knew, I had the drugs, the dealer still had some on hand, my special mix, and I had brought it back here. It was so easy to fall into old habits, to prepare it, the ritual of it.." he breathes almost reverently, shaking his head for a moment before he sighs. "I miss him so much, Ford.. how do I stop missing him so much?" he asks as he looks up at his younger brother sadly.

Because Ford had always been the most emotional of the three, not believing in such a detached persona. He wasn't exactly socially adept which is why he ended up with such a skill with computers, but that doesn't mean he didn't see the value in people and their relationships. So when he sees his older brother look at him with questions such as this, he can't say he's surprised.

Sighing and heavily sitting down on the couch, Ford tries to figure out how to answer that question. "I.. I don't think you can, Sherlock. But you get to text and talk to him right?" he asks as he waits for confirmation before pressing on. "He's not gone, it's only been a few weeks, and he'll be back before you know it." he reassures as he watches his brother. "And then perhaps you can finally invite me over for tea properly. I hope you at least have some decent Earl Grey." He mutters as he pushes himself up again and trudges toward the kitchen in search of tea. "But missing someone is not an excuse to turn to drugs." he scolds.

"That's why I called you, Ford." Sherlock says as he watches his baby brother move around the flat as if he were somewhat familiar with it, which he knows he might be, considering he can hack pretty much anything. Taking a slow, deep breath, he eyes the now empty coffee table, resting his chin on his knees.

"I knew what I was doing was wrong... please don't tell John."

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**Yeah, so this was in my head immediately following the last one. And it was keeping me from writing my other fics, so you guys get two updates tonight on this one!**

**Lots more to go, stay tuned!**

**Reviews/comment welcome!**


	33. Chapter 33

Ford returns to the sitting area with two cups of tea, one of which he holds out to his brother, waiting until he's taken it. "I won't tell John if you swear to me that you will not do such an amazingly stupid thing again. Honestly, aren't we three supposed to be genius?" He as he looks at Sherlock skeptically.

Accepting the tea, Sherlock nods a little and he takes a small sip, looking down into the cup. "I won't do it again." he says quietly with a small shake of his head, picking up the box that he's always kept his drug paraphernalia in, slowly rising to his feet to walk over to the fireplace, turning it on and tossing the box in to watch it burn, before he returns and sits on the couch. "I.. realize that we're no longer very close.. but will you stay here for a while?" he asks hopefully, feeling very vulnerable and besides John, Ford is the only one he'd trust to see him like this. Even beyond Mrs. Hudson.

"Of course. I'll stay as long as you need me to, Lock." he says with a little smile, using the childhood name for his brother, the one that he hasn't used for years. "I should have guessed that you would be like this. You're barely used to having a friend, now you've got a lover, and he's suddenly disappeared, well.. in a manner. After a few months, he'll be back." He reassures quietly, then he sighs quietly, tipping his head back. "It's rather odd, isn't it? We both ended up with men who have military pasts. They come with their own demons, and we both have to let them go off and be soldiers. Of course, you get more of a taste of that than I ever will, but I kind of prefer it that way. I am definitely not cut out for such things." He says with a small smile, sipping his tea slowly as he thinks of his own military man who is waiting back at the apartment.

Nodding a little as he thinks about it as well, Sherlock sighs. "Now I know how John feels when I run off on my own." He admits thoughtfully for a few moments as he looks around the flat. "I miss him. I never thought I would miss him yelling at me about cleaning up, or my experiments." he says as he looks around. "Does James ever yell at you?" He asks curiously with an arch of an eyebrow.

With a low laugh and a small shake of his head, Ford adjusts his glasses. "No, Lock. It's quite the opposite. I am constantly berating him for breaking the tech I give him, or for getting himself shot at. We are certifiable genius'. And we are drawn to men who are brilliant in their own ways of course, but they are.. forgive the term, primitive men. They are physical beings. And while I am sure you would agree that that can be quite.. satisfying.. it's interesting, don't you think?" He asks, trying to draw Sherlock out and into an intellectual conversation which will get him away from his chaotic feelings.

"John is an idiot, but brilliant, too. He is the perfect lens to focus myself through. When I was.. gone.. It was difficult. Without John there, but I was focused on the mission, it was easier then. I am trying to keep busy with cold cases, but I cannot help the idiocy of Scotland Yard, half of them are laughable, and I've already solved them within five minutes of getting them." he grumbles, pouting a little before he drinks some more of his tea. "Those cases will not last me three months. I can only hope there's a good murder.." he says with a little frown down into his cup before he looks around the place slowly.

"Bloody hell, Lock, you sound like James." Ford says with a little roll of his eyes. "If it takes longer than a week in between missions he starts getting restless, looking for a mission, any mission, to get him out of the office. And at that point, I want him to have a mission as well because he starts hanging about, terrorizing my minions and just being bothersome." He grumbles, shaking his head, having not realized how much he wanted to have someone to talk to or vent to about his boyfriend.

Sherlock chuckles quietly, drinking the rest of his tea for a few moments. "You and John should talk when he gets back.." he says quietly as he slowly gets up, walking over to the kitchen to put his empty mug in the sink, staring at the dishes for a moment before he goes into the top of one closet, pulling out a bottle with a soft, sad smile as he remembers the last time it came down, grabbing two glasses. "I am sure that you have a better taste for this than I do, but John assures me that it's one of the best." he says as he sits back on the couch and pours a bit in both glasses, sliding one over to Ford.

Nodding a little, Ford sighs. "James is more of an expert on alcohol than I am." He admits, picking up the glass and sniffing it lightly before he takes a sip, nodding quietly. "It is about as good as what James leaves in my flat, however." he says quietly before he sighs a little and relaxes.

Something occurs to Sherlock, and he looks over at Ford. "Did you just call your employees.. minions?" He asks in surprise but he's amused, snickering a little. "You always did want to be an evil overlord." he says with amusement. "And now you are an overlord of.. what's it called again, Q-branch?" he asks curiously, shaking his head for a few moments.

Ford smirks a little as he looks over at Sherlock. "Yes, I am their overlord. And they worship me." He says in a haughty tone, chuckling a little as he takes another sip of the scotch. "I rule them with an iron fist. I keep them busy and I give them a challenge. And in return, they make sure that I am supplied with Earl Grey at all times." he says in a serious tone as if this is the most important thing.

Staring at his brother for a few moments, Sherlock finally ends up chuckling lowly in his throat, hiding it a little in his glass as he takes a small drink, more careful of it now after his last experience during the snowstorm. Though he doesn't regret the alcohol that time, and it even makes him smile a little at the thought. "You and John are alike in that sense. You both believe in the power of tea." He says with a shake of his head, starting to relax, his mind straying away from the emotional distress which led him to this whole mess in the first place.

With a few more nods and another sip of his scotch, Ford smiles as he glances at Sherlock, able to read his brother like no one else, not even Mycroft. "Perhaps I should find time for a cup of tea with him when he returns." He says with a slight smirk, before he sighs a little, pulling out his cellphone when it bings and he frowns a little at it.

"Mycroft?" Sherlock asks as he looks over at the phone that Ford is frowning in displeasure at, figuring that if it was work it might be a different sort of facial expression.

A glance at Sherlock, exchanging a mutual look of frustration before Ford merely nods.

"Mycroft."

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**And here is a little chapter for you all, just a bit of brotherly conversation.**

**Oh my gosh! To those reviewers who seem to think I am a very cruel author: Don't worry! John WILL be coming back! I promise! This is not going to turn into a major character death or anything like that. He's just gone for a little while, but he'll be coming back! And the there will be much Sherlock and John cuteness!**

**I'm not that mean, I promise. Just wanted Sherlock to have a bit of development. Plus, it's a good excuse for me to bring Q and Bond back in for a bit, hehee.**

**Reviews/coments welcome!**


	34. Chapter 34

The danger night passes and it's the first and only one that goes to that extent. It doesn't mean that Sherlock doesn't have some bad nights, and when he does, he always calls Ford first, never calling Mycroft. It's only once or twice more while John is gone, at least, but it still goes a long way to start repairing their relationship, even if it was never hugely broken in the first place. Sherlock continues to work with Lestrade, and thankfully there's a rather ambitious serial killer that comes about in the second month and keeps him busy, though nothing that keeps him from taking John's call when it comes. Nothing will keep him from that.

Two weeks before Sherlock is hoping John will come home, the mythical 3 month mark, he hears his laptop beeping, indicating an incoming call on Skype, and he hurries over, clearing off the desk around it. He's a little disheveled but he doesn't care, grinning a bit in relief as he sees John on screen, in his undershirt, hair cut short again and presumably his fatigue pants. They appear to be in a tent of some sort if the background is anything to go by. "John." Sherlock breathes almost in relief, the constant weight that has been on his chest the past three months finally lifting, at least for a little while.

"Hey there, handsome." John says with a little grin, before he sighs. "You've lost weight." He observes in a disappointed tone, shaking his head. "I'm glad to see you're all in one piece. How is the weather back there?" He asks as he leans toward the computer a little.

"Rainy." Sherlock says shortly but he smiles a little. "I'm glad to see you're all in one piece, too." He says, only just resisting the urge to touch the screen as if he could actually reach through and touch John. "Are you alone?" He asks skeptically as he scans the screen quickly.

Chuckling a little, John smiles a little. "Yeah, I'm alone." he says as he leans back in his chair again, running a hand through his hair. "Why, planning on doing something interesting?" he asks, his eyes moving over what little of Sherlock he can see. "Bloody hell, Sherlock, I miss you." He says in a slightly breathy tone, as if saying it physically pains him.

Leaning forward a little himself, Sherlock sighs, closing his eyes and savoring those words and the tone he used. "I miss you too, John.. so much. The flat is a mess. I'll try and clean it up before you come back." Snapping his eyes open, not wanting to miss a second of seeing John, he smiles a little. "You look different, too. You've lost a little weight, you're in better shape. I can see the way that shirt fits you." He says before he smiles a little. "I look forward to finding out just how much you've changed when you get back." Dropping his voice into a suggestive tone that he knows John likes, he smirks smugly.

Dropping his head back and slouching down in his chair for a moment, John groans. "Sherlock..." He tilts his head back forward, leaning close to the computer. "So help me, Sherlock, you had better shut up now..." He says as he trails off threateningly. "Or at least change the subject." he says as he looks at him, "It's bad enough that when I get back there, I am going to drag you to bed for a full day, so you had better be prepared for that.. I don't need the others ribbing me for you being cruel." he grumbles with a little smile.

Sherlock can't help but grin broadly as he watches John. "Oh, don't worry. I have been preparing.. I was a little.. frustrated for a while.." he admits as he looks at John, smirking a little. "I've solved that little problem, though, don't worry." He says with a little smile as he looks at John. "You're coming back soon, aren't you?" he asks hopefully as he watches his lover.

Nodding a little with a small smile. "I think so. We know where they're being held, we're just.. waiting for the right time." John says awkwardly, not wanting to give too many details over an open connection, no matter how secure Ford might have made it. "What about you, anything interesting? You told me last time you'd been talking with Ford more, I'm glad to see you're patching things up with him at least. How's Lestrade and Mrs. Hudson?" He asks, eager for news of home, of familiar things.

Smiling softly as he continues to watch John, Sherlock takes a deep breath. "Mrs. Hudson nags me incessantly, I've started locking her out of the flat. She always fusses, and you know how I hate that." he says as he watches John curiously. "Ford is doing well, he seems to think you and he should go out for tea one day." he grumbles lightly, pouting just a little. "Lestrade is fine." he waves a dismissive hand. "he's not giving me the cases he could, I don't think. He's doing it on purpose." He grumbles quietly. "I've been so bored, John.." he groans softly, dropping his head a little before he looks up.

John chuckles a little for a few moments as he watches Sherlock. "I understand, Sherlock.. I'll be home soon, and then you won't be so bored, we'll figure out something, and it will probably take me a while to get another job, so you'll have me all to yourself for a while." he says with a little grin. HIs head goes up and to the side as something off-camera attracts his attention, and he nods a little. "One second!" He calls toward the door. "Looks like I might have to go here in a second, who knows what these yahoos want now.."

Sherlock doesn't get a chance to respond though, as there's another noise from off-camera, the flap of the tent being pulled back presumably.

"Captain Watson. We have to go, now." The male voice says urgently a few seconds before there's a rumbling noise, then what sounds like machine gun fire.

On screen, John is half out of his seat, the he slams back down into it, ducking instinctively at the gunfire. He then turns his attention back to the screen. "I have to go." He says in a quick, clipped way. "I love you, Sherlock." he says before he slams the laptop closed.

There's too much going on too quickly for Sherlock to do or say much of anything. "John!" He yells before the laptop closes, and then he frowns a little, trying not to let himself panic. This is not the first firefight that John has been in since leaving, that's what he told Sherlock at least. And it won't be the last. He's fine, he just had to go, or at least that's what Sherlock tells himself. There is an uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach though that makes him pull out his phone and make a call.

"Ford, I need you to find John. Now."

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**Ahhh! Don't worry, all will be well! I will try to get another chapter done tonight, but I'm not sure I'll finish it.**

**Hope you all enjoy! Reviews/comments welcome!**


	35. Chapter 35

An hour later, Sherlock has practically forced himself into MI6, and tracked down his brother in Q-branch. Most of the minions know enough not to look around too much but a few stare at Sherlock as he strides in and up to their Quartermaster. "Have you found him?" He demands as he looks at his brother.

Ford sighs a little, adjusting his glasses. "No, Sherlock. Despite what you may think, merely telling me that he was in a desert is not helpful. I have had to track down his cellphone which is more difficult because I made it that way purposely, as well as the wireless connection he used, and that's just bothersome because I had to hack in to gain that access." he says quietly in his cool, professional tones. "I have 007 on his way to the area as we speak, I will be giving him the final location once I find it. If this is a wild goose chase, I will be very cross with you." he says as he gives his brother a sharp look out of the corner of his eye. Spotting something on one of his screens, it moves from the upper left corner to the center screen, and he zooms in. "There." he touches his ear. "Bond, I have a location for you, when you land." he says before he transmits it, looking over at his second-in-command.

"R, please get us some Earl Grey, we'll be in my office." Q says simply as he looks at the young woman, then he gives Sherlock a look before he turns and heads into his office, waiting until Sherlock joins him before turning the clear glass opaque, sighing and pinching the bridge of his nose after removing his glasses. "We will find him, Sherlock. I'm sure he's fine." he reassures as he looks at him, then he smiles a little.

But of course the detective's mind is already going through various possibilities, and after pulling off his scarf and jacket, he starts to pace back and forth, trying to figure things out. "Yes, yes, of course. You're right. It isn't the first firefight that John has been in, and it won't be the last." He says, looking up when R comes in with their tea, and he takes one of the mugs, leaving Ford to thank his minion.

Sherlock's agitation is only starting to annoy Q, who thanks R for the tea, and then turns back to look at his brother. "I'm impressed you managed to bypass most of our security to get most f the way up here, you'll have to tell me how you did that when this is all over, but it's going to be a while until Bond gets there and can check things out on the ground." He says before he sighs a little. "I have a fairly comfortable couch over there. Get some rest." he says a he motions vaguely toward the couch that he got after he fell asleep at his desk one too many times.

Reluctant to sleep for a moment in case anything happened, Sherlock finally gives in and sighs a little as he moves over to the couch, sitting down slowly. "Fine." he says, but he's definitely sulking, finishing his tea and laying down, kicking his feet up the way he does at Baker street, folding his hands under his chin, deciding to go to his Mind Palace, visit his 'happy' places as it were, as many as Sherlock ever has.

It's hours later when he feels someone dragging him out of his Mind Palace, though it's not seemed that long to him. Sherlock takes a deep breath as he blinks open his eyes, looking up at Ford's familiar face.

"James has found the place." Ford says as he looks at Sherlock, then he turns and heads back over to his computer, leaving the main room for more important missions. "Bond, you're on speaker now, let me know what you see." he says, still wearing his ear piece before he glances at his brother. Sherlock gets up quickly and walks over, looking at the map that shows Bond's location.

"I found their base. Group of tents, two trucks. All of their equipment is still here, except for whatever they had with them, which is probably just their guns." He snorts a little with a slight smirk. "Found John's laptop, it's obvious you've been messing with it, Q. His phone is here as well. It looks like they all left, there should be one more vehicle given the amount of equipment they have but it's missing." He says as he explains the scene. "There is evidence of a firefight, but not a long one. Not many bullet holes, in other words. No bodies." He reports calmly again as he moves through the different tents. "That's the next move?" He asks as he stands there, feeling a bit useless.

"Well, we can't very well pack up the entire camp, especially if we don't know if they're alive or dead. I cannot see any structures in the nearby area, no vehicles." Q says as he looks at different satellite images to try and find something that gives them even a remote chance. "Take John's laptop and phone. Leave a note so he'll know what's going on if he does return. I don't like leaving my tech out there unguarded."

It's obvious that Sherlock doesn't seem very happy about that, but at this point he doesn't know what else to do. John is so far away and he's missing at this point not dead, there are no bodies, and he's sure that Bond would have mentioned if there was evidence of death.

"I've got them. Any further orders, Quartermaster?" James asks with a slightly playful tone to his voice. "I don't think bringing back my equipment will be difficult this time." He says with a little bit of amusement.

A small smile quirks the corner of Ford's lips as he looks at the monitors. "It had better not. And that laptop and phone had better return in one piece as well." he pauses before he sighs. "There's nothing more we can do unless you can find some clue to go on. Do a final sweep of the area, make sure there's no other clues." He says in a tired tone, leaning back in his chair.

"Sherlock, will you please make sure your brother eats something and gets some rest? I am holding you responsible for that until I get back." Bond says in a firm tone. "Q, there's nothing more you can do. Eat. And I mean a proper meal, not just some biscuits. And sleep. Even if it's on that bloody couch of yours, I want you to get some sleep." He insists in a firm tone.

"Yes. Of course." Sherlock says almost absentmindedly, pacing across Ford's office, back and forth behind the chair as he tries to figure out what might have happened and whether or not John would return to base or merely come home, but he's not coming up with anything at the moment.

"Fine. You'll be in my ear if you need me. Let me know when you're back on British soil. Q signing out." Ford says in a cool tone, hitting a button to turn off his side of the comms, leaving the other open in his earpiece. "I'm going to get a few hours' sleep before eating anything, then we can go out or order takeaway, there are some approved companies, here are the menus if you want." He says, pulling them out of his desk and setting them on top before he drags himself up and over to his couch, flopping down on it. "Do try not to break anything, and please, don't do anything which would get me fired."

A briefly amused look is shot over at his brother before Sherlock nods, still trying to figure out what's happening, what to do next.

"I wouldn't dream of it, Ford."

* * *

**And... more mystery! Next chapter is probably going to be a whopper and an emotional one, so be prepared!**

**Please let me know what you think!**


	36. Chapter 36

Dinner is consumed, and eventually Sherlock is driven back to Baker Street when they find out nothing else can be done. They just have to wait.

Sherlock does not do waiting well.

At first, he obsessively starts cleaning the flat, thinking that John will be home in a few days, a week perhaps, and he won't like to see the flat a mess. Everything down to the fridge and his experiments is cleaned, restocked, organized. Baker Street has never been so clean. But then the cleaning is done, and Sherlock's mind has nothing else to focus on. It's still early, barely a week since he talked to John. That's still within an acceptable time frame, so he goes back to working and his experiments, anything to take up his time. He even starts to eat and sleep more just to have something to do. And because John said he had lost weight, and he doesn't want John to be upset with him when he comes back.

Two weeks go by since the conversation, and that is when things start going downhill for the detective. Two men in military uniform show up at the door to Baker Street, requesting to see Sherlock.

"Oh, dear. He's upstairs, but he's in quite a state.. come in, let me see if I can go bring him down.." Mrs. Hudson fusses, before she heads upstairs to try and get Sherlock down.

It doesn't take long for the young man to come down the stairs quickly, but he stops on the third step when he sees the two men, slowly stepping down, mercurial eyes are looking them both over, noting the envelope that they have in their hands. "He's not dead." he says flatly, refusing to believe something like that despite the conclusion his mind jumps to.

The taller of the men, a Captain as well if his markings are anything to go by. "No, sir. Captain John Watson put you as his emergency contact, the person to notify should anything happen to him." He hesitates for a moment. "He is currently classified as Missing In Action, sir." He says before he holds out the letter. "We were informed to give you this." He says simply. When the letter is taken from him, he nods a little. "Good day, sir." He says before he turns, both men leaving Baker Street.

Sherlock looks down at the letter in his hands for a few moments before he retreats back to his flat, opening the letter and pouring over the last known locations and information. It's all things that he already knew though, thanks to his brother. They still don't know where John and his team went, where they thought their fallen comrade was being held.

Then people start telling him, starting with Mycroft, that he might have to accept the fact that John might not be coming back, that something might have happened to him. And he thinks of John, suffering for two years thinking that he was dead. Sherlock refuses to believe that his lover, his blogger, his doctor, could be killed so easily, after so much that they went through in over two years of catching criminals, the detective refuses to believe that John could die in a desert somewhere. He stops arguing with people, though, he keeps his beliefs in his heart, where they're safe and will remain so. He keeps waiting as two weeks stretches into three, stretches into four.

The openness, the playfulness that he'd started to display, even around Lestrade, starts to slowly recede, and everyone starts to notice the difference in Sherlock. There is no one there to temper Sherlock's sharp tongue, to smooth over the rough edges. There is no one to keep him calm, or keep him rested. He pushes himself to the limits until he sometimes literally collapses from exhaustion. And there is no one there who he will listen to, despite how much they might yell at him. Yelling only makes him withdraw even more. He solves more cases than ever for Scotland Yard. Five months after John left for this mission, and Sherlock barely even shows off at crime scenes anymore. His accusations of Scotland Yard's incompetence don't even hold the same bite as it used to.

Sherlock continues to work. It's something he can do, something to occupy his mind, it's the only thing that he has left other than just waiting. When he's at the flat, he's just waiting for John to get back. He tries to at least eat, even if he very rarely sleeps. With sleep come dreams, and dreams are worse than being awake. In his dreams, John is there with him, but when he wakes, he is in an empty flat.

The detective still believes his doctor will return to him. It was a promise he made, afterall. That he would be home soon. A month and a half after John is declared MIA, Sherlock finally gets a serial killer case that occupies him fully and takes his mind off other things, the spark coming back to him a little, to where he even gets a bit angry at Donovan and Anderson, something that hasn't happened in weeks.

In the middle of the case, he is in Baker Street, trying to figure out the problem, scrubbing his hands through his hair as he paces through the flat, the paths well worn by now, so that he could do it in his sleep or with his eyes closed. He's so tired and so focused on the case that he doesn't even notice when he turns toward John's chair and yells, "I'm missing something, it doesn't make sense, John!"

An empty chair and silence is the only answer the world's only consulting detective gets.

* * *

**I know this is short but it was really difficult for me to write, emotionally at least. I hated putting Sherlock through this, but it will all be worth it, next chapter, I promise!**

**But that will have to wait a few hours because I need to sleep.**

**As always, reviews/comments are welcome!**


	37. Chapter 37

Sherlock Holmes arguing with Detective Inspector Lestrade is not an uncommon sight or sound in the Homicide department of Scotland Yard. The other employees there from Sergeants to secretaries, are fairly used to it by now. And today is no different as the two men yell at each other over how to finish up the serial killer case. Lestrade is determined to have his people and his people only capture the killer, while Sherlock wants to be let in on it since he was the one who discovered who the killer was.

Pretty much business as usual, then.

At least until the elevator doors open to let out another person, this one looking only slightly bruised and a little tired. Short blonde hair hits atop a slightly more tanned face, and below that are still slightly dirty desert fatigues. The man can't help a slight smile as he hears the arguing, glancing around with a slight nod to various people before he stops in the middle of the office.

"Sherlock Holmes!" Barks the older man in a familiar, slightly scolding tone, yet still using his Captain's voice, one that he's gotten used to using again in the last five months.

Silence is deafening after that simple explanation, most of the employees having stopped their work to stare at the soldier. While it wasn't formal yet, most people were starting to assume that he was just not coming back, it seemed like the logical assumption at the time, and yet there he is - the soldier, the doctor.

Back straightening almost immediately upon hearing that tone, which is so familiar to him, Sherlock doesn't turn around at first, afraid that this might be his imagination. The shocked look on Lestrade's face and the silence make him think that this might just be real though. Slowly, Sherlock turns from where he was standing close to Lestrade's desk, and he steps over to the door in careful, measured steps, to stare at the soldier he sees, finally letting out a breath that he didn't even realize he was holding.

"John." The detective breathes out, staring still, afraid to blink in case this is a dream or some sort of hallucination. He sees the serious expression on his doctor's face but he doesn't care, and before he knows it his feet are bringing him over to the other men in strides that start out slow, and quickly pick up pace until he is in front of his John. Quickly, he puts his arms around the shorter man and pulls him into a tight, clinging hug, lowering his head to press it against the older man's neck. "John.." he breathes again, taking in a few deep breaths. "You came back." He whispers softly.

"Of course I came back, you daft bugger. I would have called you, but SOMEONE took my phone and laptop." John accuses with a little shake of his head, but he puts his arms around the slim body of his detective, glad to be home and glad to be back in the arms of the man he loves. Carefully, he puts one hand on Sherlock's shoulder and pushes it back a little, enough that he can lay his calloused hand against the soft cheek of his detective. The rest of the world has already faded away and he could care less about how many people are staring at him. It's been five months since he saw this man, and all that time he's been thinking about his touch, his smell, and of course those perfect lips. Sliding one hand into the taller man's hair, he suddenly pulls him in for a demanding, claiming kiss.

The applause that starts around them and a few whistles and catcalls are ignored by both men as they continue the kiss for a few long moments before Sherlock pulls back from it. "I'm sorry." he whispers to his doctor, but doesn't release him even an inch, afraid that if he does this will be another one of his dreams.

"It's alright, love.. I'm here now." John soothes, knowing what the younger man must have gone through with that brilliant mind of his. Glancing around Sherlock, the soldier smiles for the first time since exiting the elevator as he looks at Lestrade. "Good to see you, Greg." He greets cordially as if nothing happened, as if he was never gone in the first place or declared MIA. "If you don't mind, I'm going to take Sherlock home now, hope you weren't in the middle of any big case or anything, because he's going to be under house arrest for a few days." He says with a look of anticipation on his face.

Surprised at how casual he can be despite the questions that he wants to ask, Lestrade just nods a little. "Of course." He says as he waves his hand a little. "Just finished a case, actually. Take him home, the idiot needs some rest. Good to see you, John." He says with a nod of his head and a slight smile.

Even though everyone is conspiring against him at the moment, Sherlock can't bring himself to care because he has his John back. And he's in one piece, not hurt or seemingly overly traumatized in any way. Still, he has to give a token grumbling even if he continues to hold John and nuzzle against his hair a little. More affectionate than he has ever been in public, but then again, that was when he saw John every day, almost all day.

Nodding a little to Lestrade, John pulls back a little to look up at Sherlock. "Come on, love. Let's go home, hm?" He says with a little smile, pulling out of Sherlock's arms but taking his hand, leading him quietly toward the elevator. They manage to end up in one alone, and no sooner do the doors close than John pushes Sherlock back against the wall and ravages his mouth again, hand buried in those curls he's thought about touching again for the last five months.

Sherlock grunts as his back hits the wall, but he returns the kiss, hands around John to hold him close as he eagerly returns the kiss, finally pulling away to take a shuddering breath. "John.. John.. my John, where did you go? They said you were gone, it's been a month and a half, and you didn't contact me.." he says quietly, trying to control his breathing and not send himself into a panic attack as he looks at the man in front of him, trying to memorize his face again.

Giving Sherlock a few more soft kisses, John smiles a little. "We were under fire, we got information from one of the attackers that the person we were after was going to be executed, we had to leave, didn't have time to pack up. But after we rescued him, we came back. But my phone and laptop were gone, so I couldn't call you, and most of the other equipment was destroyed. It took us a while to get back to a base, then we had to be debriefed and brought back here. I came to find you as soon as we landed." He says quietly, stroking the younger man's cheek. "Bloody hell, have I missed you. I'm so sorry I didn't get a chance to call.." He says, giving him a lingering kiss again, this one more gentle.

Nodding a little, accepting the quick explanation, Sherlock grabs John's hand firmly before they head out of the elevator and out to the street where they can get a cab and head back to Baker Street, though he keeps John close in the cab. "It was very hard, John.." He admits softly, putting his chin down on John's shoulder.

Smiling a little at Sherlock, John nods quietly as he puts an arm around the younger man's waist, giving him a little squeeze. "I know, Sherlock.." He says quietly, then glances at him. "You've been eating better at least, you look healthier than the last time we talked.." He says quietly as he watches him, the arm around him giving his waist a little squeeze.

"I didn't want you to be upset when you came back if I hadn't been eating.." Sherlock explains, sounding a little sleepy as he nestles close to the older man. "I knew.. you had to come back. You promised." He says quietly, with a surprisingly childlike confidence in the other man.

Nodding a little, kissing the top of Sherlock's head before starting to stroke a hand through his curls slowly in a soothing way that he knows the detective likes, he settles back comfortably in the cab, knowing that it will take a bit for them to get back to Baker Street. Finally, he tilts his head a little and whispers into Sherlock's hair.

"Of course, Sherlock. I will always come back to you. I love you."

* * *

**Yay, finally back together again! But Sherlock will still need more cuddles and private time with John before everything is settled, and he will get it, don't worry! I am back on the fluff train for the most part, just some emotional wounds that need to be soothed, that's all. I hope not too many of you want to kill me after this little angst detour.**

**Hope you're still enjoying this!**

**Comments/Reviews welcome!**


	38. Chapter 38

They get back to Baker street and manage to avoid Mrs. Hudson, locking the front door of the flat, before John leans back against it a little. "It's good to be home.." He says as he looks around, surprised that the place is still relatively organized and somewhat clean, though he does see some cigarette butts in an ash tray. A small sigh is given as he looks at them. "Going to have to start over on the patches.." He mumbles to himself before he walks over and sits down on the couch slowly to undo his boots and put them to the side. "I'm sorry, Sherlock.. but I'm dirty, and tired, and right now all I want is a shower and to sleep.." He says as he stands slowly again, starting to undo the outer shirt of his fatigues. "Care to join me?" He asks as he moves closer to the taller man.

Watching John with rapt attention, Sherlock only removes his outer coat and scarf to hang them up, finally toeing off his dress shoes as well. He merely nods a little with a small smile. "Yes.. I'm not letting you out of my sight for a few days, John." He says quietly as he looks at the older man, licking his lips before stepping forward to kiss him again, helping John get his over shirt off, just wanting to touch his doctor, map out the changes to his body over the last five months, forgetting for the moment that Sherlock has some rather dramatic changes to his own body that John might notice in the shower. He's too focused on his doctor to think about that.

John finally breaks the kiss, sliding his hands up Sherlock's chest and over his shoulders, letting the taller man's expensive jacket fall to the floor. "Come on, Sherlock." He says, taking the detective's hand and leading him down the hallway to the bathroom before he turns on the shower, knowing it takes a minute to warm up, he strips off his shirt, knowing he has a few new scars, but nothing dramatic, only one along his side was from a bullet grazing him. It was only a scratch and he's sort of pissed off that it even left a little scar. He lifts off his tags, knowing how much Sherlock likes them but he wants to be rid of them for a while, and he puts them down on the edge of the sink before he reaches up to start undoing Sherlock's shirt.

Transfixed by the expanse of skin that is much tighter over the underlying muscles than they were before, Sherlock reaches out and runs the fingertips of one hand down over John's chest as he takes a deep breath. "You're in much better shape now.." He admits softly, fingers curling around his waist for a few moments, his index finger stroking along the new scar there as he frowns slightly, before his hand continues on, stroking up his back slowly as he allows the doctor to finish undoing his own shirt.

Once John has the shirt open, he pushes it off Sherlock's shoulders, then freezes as he stares at the man's chest. And while Sherlock has gained a bit of weight and is more filled out than he was, looking to be a bit more fit, that is not what first attracts John's attention. "Sherlock.. what did you do?" he asks in surprise as he reaches out and lightly touches over Sherlock's left pectoral.

There, under his hand is a tattoo, no bigger than his hand but highly detailed. It starts with an anatomically correct heart, around which are fine chains, barely visible unless you're close to it, the center having a small piece of metal with a key hole in it. Around the heart is curled a snake with his tongue out like in the RAMC logo, except its coloring is desert camouflage. down near the tail are the initials 'JW', right before it turns into the end of a key rather than the end of a tail which is curled slightly toward the key hole in the heart.

Turning a light shade of pink, Sherlock looks down at the tattoo for a moment, then he considers. "They all said that you were gone." he says quietly as he looks at his doctor. "You were declared MIA. I knew it was wrong, but I couldn't keep fighting everyone else, so I stopped arguing. But I needed.. something. Something that would remind me you were out there, that you were mine." he says quietly as he looks at John. "So I marked myself, so I will always remember the man who wormed his way into my heart." He admits quietly as he watches his doctor.

Sighing a little as if he had been holding his breath, John looks up at Sherlock with wide eyes. "You mad, amazing, brilliant man.." he breathes, putting his hand flat over the tattoo. "It's beautiful." he says quietly, understanding the symbolism to it all because he understands Sherlock. "I can't believe you would do something like that for me." He says quietly as he slides his hand up to rest it along the side of Sherlock's neck, thumb stroking along his jaw. He opens his mouth to say something, then changes his mind and pulls Sherlock down for a loving kiss, showing Sherlock how he feels through actions.

Sherlock responds to the kiss in kind, and he finally breaks it with a little sigh. "You're not upset, then, about the tattoo?" he asks quietly as he watches John in a concerned way. When he got it, he was worried that John might not like it, and though it hurt, Sherlock was always good with pain. And he needed to express himself in a way that was lasting, and this is certainly more permanent.

Chuckling a little and giving Sherlock another soft kiss, John finally pulls away, testing the water in the shower before he continues to strip. "No, Sherlock. I'm not upset. It's your body, and since it doesn't harm it in ways like drugs, smoking, or not eating does, I have no problems with it." he says quietly, ducking into the shower after he's put aside the rest of his clothes.

Quickly disrobing and following his doctor, Sherlock sighs a little, nodding quietly. "I'm surprised you don't have any tattoo's, being in the army as long as you were." he notes, sliding his hands up from John's elbows over his biceps and then to his shoulders where he starts to rub firmly, feeling the knots from tension in his doctor's shoulders, so he gently starts to work them out.

"Oh, god.. I missed that.." John groans as he leans back against Sherlock's fingers, considering for a few moments. "I thought about getting the RAMC crest tattooed on my arm at one point, but it just seemed so permanent.. I couldn't make up my mind, and then we were in Afghanistan, where getting a tattoo is not really a good idea." He says with a little chuckle as he glances back at Sherlock. "I'm just glad to be home, actually.." He murmurs quietly, enjoying the touch he missed so much for the last five months. "Although now you are giving me some ideas.." He says with a little chuckle, shifting before he leans forward a little so that the water runs over his hair. "Bloody hell.. I missed hot showers, too.." He mutters.

Watching his doctor, Sherlock feels happiness swell up inside of him, and he leans forward to kiss the back of John's neck quietly. "I'm glad you're home, too, John.." he says quietly as he nuzzles against the other man's skin, before he reaches past him to grab the body wash and start to help John get clean while the older man scrubs his hair. "Because I don't want you to find out from anyone else, I should tell you that I.." he hesitates for a moment. "I almost went back to drugs. In the first few weeks you were gone. It was more difficult than I expected and I just wanted the pain to go away for a little while, I wanted to stop missing you so much." His voice starts off slow and then picks up pace so he ends in a rush, moving back a little as if he's expecting John to hit him.

Upon hearing that information, John stiffens, and then very carefully and deliberately rinses out his hair before he turns slowly. "You.. WHAT?" He demands, trying to reign in his anger and frustration as he looks at the man before him. "Tell me you didn't, Sherlock. Please tell me you didn't go through with it." he says as he takes the younger man's hands in his, narrowly preventing himself from looking at the inside of Sherlock's elbows.

Quickly shaking his head to try and reassure John, Sherlock takes a deep breath. "I didn't. I had everything, I.. I had prepared the syringe, but.. I called Ford. He came over, got rid of everything. I got rid of.. all of it. Everything I ever used to prepare my drugs." He says as he looks at John. "I.. I couldn't. I knew you would be so disappointed and angry with me if I did. Ford and I... we talked. It helped." He says with a nod of his head, worried about where they stand now.

Visibly relieved, John closes his eyes and then nods quietly, squeezing Sherlock's hands before he slides his hands up his pale arms. "Thank you, Sherlock. I'm so glad you didn't.. I'll have to thank Ford, too, for coming over." he says as he slides one hand around to the back of the detective's neck, pulling him down, then turning them both so that Sherlock is under the water. And after his hair is wet down, John starts to wash it for him, knowing how much the younger man enjoys it.

When both of them are clean, lingers under the hot water, finally stepping out and drying off, putting the towel around his waist, reaching for the dog tags to put them back on, only to find Sherlock's hand covering his. Curiously, he glances back at Sherlock. "I thought you liked me wearing them." he says with a little smirk.

Shaking his head a little, Sherlock pulls his doctor's hand off the tags and shakes his head again. "No. Not for a while. I don't want Captain Watson, I don't want to be reminded of you being gone, or possibly having to leave again. I just want you to be Doctor John Watson for a while." he says quietly as he looks at him worriedly for a few moments.

Nodding a little and putting his tags on top of his other clothes, he picks everything up. "I understand, Sherlock." he says before he carries everything back into their bedroom, tags being tucked in a drawer and the clothes tossed in the laundry basket. He slips on pajama pants and underwear before he crawls onto the bed. "Lets just rest for a few hours, Sherlock.. then maybe order some chinese. Then we can talk more." he offers as he holds out his hand to his detective.

Watching John and taking in all the little movements that make him so happy to see again in Baker Street, Sherlock takes a deep breath and moves over to crawl into bed, cuddling up and wrapping John in his arms, nestling his head up against John's chest so he can listen to his heartbeat.

"Thank you for coming back to me, John."

* * *

**Hehee. Cute! Sherlock may be a little clingy, but it may be adorable. No, scratch that, it will definitely be adorable.**

**Hope you all like this, please comment/review, I love to hear what you think!**


	39. Chapter 39

It's only around four hours later when Sherlock wakes up, and before his brain can kick in fully, one simple thought registers in his brain. "John." He gasps, not too loudly but shocked since he finds himself in bed alone, and he briefly wonders if the day before was all a dream. Until he notices a few things. One, the bed beside him has the definite indent of a person, as does the pillow, something that has never happened before when John was gone.

Two, the wardrobe is open, which it was not when Sherlock went to sleep, and up against it he can see John's duffel bag. And last but not least, he can hear movement outside the bedroom in the rest of the flat, and it's not the shuffling steps of Mrs. Hudson. Slowly he relaxes, before he slowly slides out of bed, throwing on his dressing gown before he steps out into the flat.

John has been up for about half an hour, ordering them chinese, having hoped that Sherlock would sleep a little longer. But he's in the kitchen at the counter by the sink as he makes them both tea, the take away bag sitting on the counter with little containers around it from where he checked the order.

Slim but deceptively strong arms slide around John's waist from behind, and he lowers his head down to rest it against the shorter man's shoulder. "I thought it was all a dream." he says as he turns his head and takes a deep breath against his doctor's skin, nuzzling in against it gently for a few moments.

Putting his hand over one of Sherlock's, John smiles a little. "Sorry, love." He says quietly, tilting his head back against the taller man. "I wanted to get us something to eat. I thought you might sleep a bit longer." he says quietly, taking a deep breath. "Did you sleep well?" He asks, a little concerned as he looks back at the detective.

"Much better than I have since you left. It's frustrating that I can't even sleep well without you here. You've ruined me, John." Sherlock says in a lightly annoyed tone, though it's a little pouty as well. He doesn't let go, even when John starts to make the tea. He can't help it, he still feels a bit like John is going to disappear on him.

"I see you've managed to keep yourself fed, I'm surprised there's so much food in the flat with you here by yourself." John teases, smiling a little as he continues to make the tea, not being hindered by the slightly clingy detective, not minding it at all in fact. Finishing off the tea, he slowly turns himself around in Sherlock's arms, putting the tea within his reach, but not trying to remove himself from the detective's arms as he leans back against the counter a little.

Looking a little embarrassed and releasing John with one arm so he can reach out to pick up the mug of tea, Sherlock looks at John for a few moments. "I didn't want you to be upset with me if you came back and saw I wasn't eating. So I made sure to at least eat one meal a day." he admits, looking at the tea for a moment before taking a drink, his other hand just curled around John's hip gently.

John nods a little as he drinks his tea. "Thank you, love." He leans up and gives Sherlock a soft, tender kiss. One turns into two, and for a few minutes they stand there gently exchanging kisses, before the doctor leans back and takes another drink out of his tea. "And I see you're in one piece. I'm glad you kept yourself safe, I was really worried about you.. The guys kept giving me crap about being a mother hen, I told them they didn't know you." he says with a little smirk as he watches the detective, just taking in the little changes of the other's face.

"Thank you, John, but I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself." Now Sherlock starts to pull away, pretending to be a little offended as he sips his tea and starts to take a step back from John.

Catching the other man by the front of his dressing gown, John quickly slides his hand up and around Sherlock's neck to rest on the back and pull the younger man down toward him. "Yes, love. You can take care of yourself. I just wish you would take care of yourself a little better." He clarifies as he watches him, putting his tea aside without removing his hand from Sherlock's neck, before pulling the other down for another session of languid kissing.

Sherlock also places his tea on the counter, the kisses thoroughly distracting him and he intends to enjoy it, so both his arms go around the older man's waist again. He allows the pace to be slow, exploring eachother again and just relishing being with eachother. Finally, he pulls back from the kisses, resting their foreheads together. "Will you tell me what happened?" He asks hopefully.

Considering for a few moments, John nods slowly as he looks up at Sherlock, moving away from him a little to pull out plates and start dishing out food for the both of them. "I will, but not today. First we are going to eat, and then I would very much like to get back to what we were doing a moment ago.. perhaps on the sofa, though, bit more comfortable there." He says as he hands the detective's plate back over to him, along with his tea, before leading the way into the living room to sit on the couch, flicking the tellie on to a random station before starting to eat.

It feels a little strange, to be doing such normal things after being apart for so long, but Sherlock knows that John probably needs some time to decompress despite how much Sherlock might want other things, like to talk and things like that. Well, more physical things than merely talking, but he won't admit, even to himself, that such base desires could have overtaken his thinking. Still, he starts to eat the way John wants him to, and because he is quite hungry at the moment, not really sure when the last time he ate was.

After the food is finished, John takes their plates and puts them down on the coffee table before he turns, laying back against one side of the couch. "C'mere." He says quietly as he holds out one hand to his boyfriend, just wanting to be close to the other man, to be able to touch him and hold him like he hasn't been able to do for the last five months, and something he has missed a great deal.

More than happy to oblige, Sherlock slips out of his dressing gown before he lays down mostly on top of the doctor, arms resting on either side of the older man. "Wake me up before you get up in the morning, if I'm not awake." He says after a moment as he nestles close to the older man, placing a soft kiss on his shoulder and neck, not able to reach anything else. "I understand how you felt, now, John. When I.. came back. The way you would rush into a room where I was, or the way you would come and check on me at night. Yes, I wasn't really asleep, John, I knew that you would check up on me, make sure that I was there. I saw no need to say anything about it at the time, if that was what you needed to feel better, to mend our friendship, I was more than happy to let you do it." He admits as he tilts his head to look up at John for a few moments.

Chuckling a little as he folds his arms around Sherlock, John kisses the top of his head gently before he takes a deep breath against the man's hair. "I should have known. I can't say that I'm happy you understand, Sherlock. Because I know it's no fun, feeling like that. I don't have a job or anything now, though, so for the moment I will be hanging around, whenever you want to verify that I am, indeed here. I promise. I won't leave your sight if that's what you want. Of course that means you have to come to the shops with me." he says with a little smirk.

Sherlock grumbles a little as he nestles down against the decidedly more muscular chest of John, nuzzling against it a little.

"Perhaps I'll merely get Ford to make me a tracker for you, instead."

* * *

**Just a little bit of cute fluff for ya'll, though there will actually be some discussion somewhere in the next chapter or two. :)**

**Thank you so much for your wonderful response to my angsty chapters and such, I wasn't feeling entirely confident about them, but you have all changed my mind! You guys are awesome!**

**I hope you all enjoy this chapter, let me know what you think!**


	40. Chapter 40

John can't help but laugh a little. "If I get a tracker, so do you, you beautiful, mad man." He teases gently as he kisses the top of the man's head, still holding him, one hand starting to card through his hair, knowing how much the younger man enjoys it, wanting to soothe him, having a strong urge to just coddle Sherlock a little, take care of him. He's not sure how Sherlock dealt with him being gone, but if he flirted with drugs it probably wasn't good.

Sherlock grumbles a little wordlessly again, squirming and getting comfortable as he nuzzles against John, being very catlike at the moment as he rubs his cheek against John's soft shirt. "Ford wants to take you out for drinks, by the way. But he can't have you for a while. I am sure he wishes to take you out without me hanging about." He says quietly, before he takes a deep breath. "I have your phone and laptop. We.. when you disappeared, I.. pulled some strings, sent someone out looking for you. They found your base, but there was no sign of any of you. Ford wanted to make sure his tech didn't fall into the wrong hands, so he insisted it was brought back." It seems that now that he's talking he can't stop, since he continues. "I know you don't want to discuss this tonight, but.. Why didn't you call? Just tell me that, John, please." He says quietly, lifting his head and resting his chin on John's chest so he can look into the older man's eyes.

Sighing softly but not really surprised, John watches Sherlock for a few moments. "Well, besides that you took my phone..." he teases, mussing up the detective's hair just because he can and it gives him a certain amount of satisfaction. "Between the time we left and came back, a sandstorm had apparently come through, destroyed our equipment. Our rescue effort wasn't exactly sanctioned. Well.. it was more the type of.. if we get caught, the higher ups would say that we were rogue, or some rubbish." He says quietly, before he sighs. "Which I did not learn of course until after I had gone through the month of training. By then I wasn't about to turn back." He says quietly, now staring up at the ceiling as he unconsciously moves his hand through Sherlock's hair, more to soothe himself now than anything. "So we couldn't just stop by any base, not that there were any near there. We had to get out of the country first, and with one truck, one tank of gas, that took a while." he says quietly, before he sighs. "When we finally got to a base.. I don't know what happened after that, as far as communications went. I thought they had notified our families that we were alive, but it's the bloody army, and apparently they didn't think that was important enough. At least they didn't tell you I was dead." He is a little angry now, actually, more than a little angry that someone in the chain of command screwed up. "Get up, Sherlock." He says in a flat tone after a moment. "Please." He adds after a moment, still staring straight up, releasing the detective completely.

Frowning a little as he listens, Sherlock remains still, listening to his doctor's voice and the story, annoyed himself that the reason no one told him that John was alive was because of buerocracy. But when he's told to get up, besides being confused, he panics a little even as he sits up and moves off of John, having learned by now that when he's given a direct request like that, it's best to do as he's told and remove himself because most of the time it has to do with John's PTSD. Sitting at the other end of the couch, Sherlock just waits silently to see what happens.

Sitting up, John takes a few deep breaths, feet on the floor, arms resting on his knees and he runs his hands through his shorter hair, scratching at his scalp a little as he tries to relax himself. Blindly, he reaches out one hand toward Sherlock, waiting until the younger man takes it before he closes his hand around the other's cool hand and just holds on for a few moments. "Sherlock.." he finally whispers softly, opening his eyes and looking at Sherlock. "I'm sorry, love. It wasn't easy, going back to that life. I am definitely not cut out for it anymore. I'm too soft anymore." He tries to joke, scooting over next to Sherlock.

Looking at John in concern, Sherlock wordlessly takes the older man's hand when it's requested, squeezing his doctor's hand. Relaxing a little once he's talking again, Sherlock smirks a little. "I would hardly call you soft.." he says softly before he shifts, taking a chance and slowly moving so he's straddling the older man's lap, slowly sliding his arms around John's neck. He's trying not to be too aggressive, not wanting to set John off again, but at the same time, knowing one sure fire way to distract his doctor. Without saying anything else, he leans in and kisses John. Soft, gentle kisses initially, and when John starts to become a little more enthusiastic, he lets himself be as well. Before long, they're stumbling back toward their bedroom, the emotions of the past day all coming to a head.

It's a good thing that Mrs. Hudson appears to be out for the day because there is no mistaking what is going on in the bedroom of 221B Baker Street for the next few hours. A lot of energy and emotion has to be released, the warm afterglow being sparked into flames again by a look, or a touch. By the time they are sated and sleep off their post-coital exhaustion, it's the wee hours of the morning.

Finding himself spooned up behind Sherlock when he wakes, John smiles a little, stretching his slightly sore body and kissing the back nape of Sherlock's neck which happens to be right in front of him. He can feel that the younger man is already awake, so he just smiles a little. "How do you feel?" he asks softly, knowing that he wasn't exactly gentle at times, already seeing some bruises raising on Sherlock's pale skin, distinct finger marks around his hips that makes John grin a little.

Now that he knows John is awake, Sherlock stretches slowly, before he resumes his slightly curled up position. "Perfect. Might be a bit sore. I can appreciate the pain, and considering the night we had, I will put up with many things." He says with a smile as he places his hand over John's gently. Wanting to see John's face, he slowly shifts and shimmies until he's laying on his back, looking over at the man next to him with a small smile.

Laughing softly, John waits until the detective rolls over, before he places a light kiss on his lips, his fingers touching a few marks that he left, and he laughs lightly to himself. "It seems my little vacation assisted with my stamina. I think we need to leave the flat today. Maybe go to that little coffee shop you like, then go to the park. And later, to Angelo's. I just want to be back in London. Wash away all the sand with London rain." He says with a small chuckle, finally sitting up and rolling out of bed. "I'll start the shower." he decides as he walks toward the bathroom.

Quickly, Sherlock gets up and follows, leaning against the door frame as he watches the older man. "I understand." he says with a small nod of his head, and he really does understand, having wanted the same thing when he came back. Granted, he was gone longer, but he wanted to be in the city, among the people, soaking it all in, so he can understand John's desire to do the same, more than ready to follow him into the city that they both love so much.

Turning to look back at Sherlock after turning the shower on, John sighs, rubbing his stubbled cheek for a few moments, not having realized it got that bad.

"You do, don't you?"

* * *

**Sort of just a filler chapter, but I like it. And holy crap, 40 chapters! Officially my longest fic yet. And I have no idea where I'm going with it. Well, I have one idea. But I'm still trying to figure out how to get from here to there. :D**

**Probably will skip a few days. At the moment, I'm just feeling kind of smug about updating all of my stories! And adding a chapter to one of my one-shots, lol. Apparently clearing my brain out by doing that one-shot worked. I hope that you enjoy this little chapter, and hopefully I'll have more for you soon!**

**As always, comments/reviews are welcome!**


	41. Chapter 41

Watching John for a few moments, Sherlock moves away from the door frame, reaching out and cupping John's jaw, rubbing his thumb along the stubble. "I much prefer you clean shaven." he finally admits as he looks at the doctor, before he slips past him and reaches in to test the water temperature, opening the curtain and sliding in so he can wet his hair down to wash it before he lets John have the water. Or at least he can start to.

Smiling a little, John slides in behind Sherlock, and he sighs. "I missed this." he says quietly, knowing that he might say this a lot over the next few days but he feels that it's important. He rests his head between Sherlock's shoulder blades for a moment, before he straightens and nudges the man out of the way so he can duck under the hot water, turning to take the shampoo from Sherlock. "Let me." He offers, knowing the detective enjoys it, so he gently start to massage the shampoo in before allowing the detective to wash off.

When they're both clean and out of the shower, Sherlock lingers in the bathroom to watch John shave off the stubble, just enjoying being able to watch him do things, even if they're silly little things like shaving. he places a kiss on John's scarred shoulder before he finally slips out, considering his clothing choices for a moment, grabbing a shirt he knows John likes, and then on a whim grabs a pair of jeans from his drawer, a pair that John has probably never seen him wear. The combination of nice (probably designer) jeans and the button-up shirt gives him a slightly younger but slightly more posh look. John finally comes out of the bathroom, smoothing down the front of his hair a little before he looks over at Sherlock, admiring him slowly as he looks him over. "Mmm. We are going to have to leave quickly." He says with a little laugh. "Or we won't leave at all." he says before he goes to find some clothes for himself, choosing jeans and a t-shirt with a sweater over it, not feeling like wearing his button-up shirts today.

After they're finally both dressed, John pulls Sherlock down for a kiss before they head out and walk the few blocks to their favorite cafe, getting a breakfast to go and then walking to the closest park. John sighs a little, tilting his head back to look up at the sky. "I always forget how much I miss London." He says quietly as he sips at the remainder of his coffee, his preferred take out drink. They never make tea correctly in his opinion.

Sherlock relaxes, having already finished his coffee, he leans back on the bench as he looks at everything and everyone, finally swinging back to focus on John. "The city is so alive." he observes, before he adds, "I don't think I've ever been anywhere that I love as much as London." He admits softly, reaching out and taking John's hand in his, putting it on his leg and then covering the older man's hand with his own, just wanting to feel the weight there.

Allowing his hand to be manipulated, John doesn't even glance down, just gives Sherlock's leg a little squeeze. "There are other cities that I've loved, but London is my home." He agrees as he looks over at Sherlock with a little smile. "Even moreso now that I had you to come back to." he admits with another little squeeze to Sherlock's leg, watching his detective for a few moments before he looks away, finishing off his coffee before leaning back against the bench as well. "Come on. Lets keep walking before we get cold." He says with a small grin before he slowly gets up, turning his hand over in the process and tangling their fingers together as he waits for the brunette to join him.

The walk is long, and eventually they end up in a more heavily wooded area, not many people out today, and he turns to look at Sherlock, placing one hand over the younger man's heart where he knows the tattoo is, considering, planning, but outwardly he just stares at where his hand is for a few moments.

"John?" Sherlock asks, concerned as he looks down at the older man, putting his hand over John's, knowing how purposeful the placement is, "John, are you ok?" He asks, concerned when his doctor just stares.

Finally looking up at Sherlock, John smiles, and it's a relaxed, happy smile. "Yeah, I'm fine, Sherlock." he reassures, turning his hand over to squeeze Sherlock's for a moment before he drops it back to his side. "I guess I still feel a little.. disconnected from everything. When we get back to a normal routine, I'm sure I'll feel better. I still feel like I could sleep for hours." he says quietly, shaking his head for a few moments. When the sky opens up and starts a heavy mist, he can't help but just laugh a little, stepping back from Sherlock a little bit to tilt his head back and look up at the sky. "Blimey, I missed the rain.." He admits with a small sigh, relaxing for a few moments before he looks up at Sherlock. "While we are out, we should get you some nicotine patches, don't think I didn't notice how you smelled like smoke. It made me want a cigarette, too." he says with a shake of his head, chuckling softly.

Seeming a little embarrassed by John's deduction, Sherlock nods quietly. "It wasn't as bad as I used to smoke. I could say that at least it wasn't heroine, but that doesn't make it much better. Nicotine is as much of a drug as anything. It just helped me focus." he admits, sounding apologetic as he watches John.

"Hey, you were the one who wanted to go cold turkey last time." John says quietly, smiling. "And the day after we met, you said you couldn't sustain a smoking habit in London.. hence the patches." He points out with a small smile as he thinks about how freaked out he was when he saw Sherlock on the couch like that, thinking he might be high or doing drugs, only to find out he had three nicotine patches on his arm.

Sherlock smiles softly as he remembers that as well, nodding quietly as he watches his doctor for a few moments. "I haven't felt the need to smoke since you got home. Until you mentioned it. Perhaps patches would be best to start off with." He says, before he adds, "Unless you've changed your mind about your preference for smoking."

A small snort comes from the doctor and John shakes his head for a few moments. "I'm a doctor, what do you think?"

* * *

**I would have made this longer but started to fall asleep during it, while really wanting to still post it. So this is what happened. :)**

**Oh.. but, YOU GUYS! I know where I want to go with this, finally! I mean, I know how I want it to end. Not that that will happen any time soon, I still have another case that I want them to go through and there will be more fluff. And other stuff. But.. yeah. I know where it will eventually end up, which is awesome because I didn't have a single clue before.**

**128 follows. Wow. Seriously. This just blows me away. I'm so glad you like this. And I hope you'll continue to like it.**

**Please let me know what you think, reviews/comments welcome!**


	42. Chapter 42

In true London fashion, the drizzle starts to turn into a heavier rain, and John decides it's a good time to go in so that neither of them gets sick. They stop by a small shop first to get Sherlock's nicotine patches before they head back to Baker Street, pretty well soaked through, but the doctor at least is laughing as he drags Sherlock inside. "Blimey, I'm going to have to re-adjust to London weather all over again." he says with a chuckle, quickly removing his shoes and jacket. "Come on.. We're both soaked through." He says as he helps Sherlock out of his larger coat and scarf, before dragging him into their bedroom. His fingers are shaking a little as he quickly strips out of his wet clothes, going to go get a towel for both of them to bring it back. "I forgot to ask.. How are you feeling?" he asks as he reaches up to rub down Sherlock's hair gently after slinging one of the towels around his waist, helping him to get out of the rest of his clothes.

"As I said this morning, I am still a little sore, but it was well worth it." Sherlock says with a little chuckle, keeping his head ducked down a little so that John can help with his hair, finally taking the towel from him to rub down his skin until it's dry and rosy, wandering over to get fresh clothes from the cabinet, but this time comfortable clothes, forgoing his suit again.

John watches him go appreciatively as he rubs himself dry as well, following Sherlock over, lightly touching a few of the love bites he left on Sherlock's shoulders, before he places a soft, chaste kiss the taller man's shoulder. "I'm glad you think so.." He says quietly, before he nudge him aside so he can get into the drawer he was previously blocking, hesitating for a few moment before he pulls out clothes, smiling a little. "Do you remember, after Christmas, when you started moving me into your room, without me knowing? You just kept moving my stuff down here.." he chuckles a little. "That seems like a very long time ago." He admits as he looks at the lanky detective, slipping on a t-shirt, which is a little more snug than it used to be, along with some sweatpants.

After dressing in his own clothes, Sherlock moves over to put his arms around the shorter man from behind, resting his chin on the other's shoulder. "Yes, it was a very long time ago. And a very good time." he says softly, lowering his head a little to kiss John's shoulder. "You know my mother will want us to go to Christmas again this year." he says reluctantly for a few moments.

Nodding slowly, John puts his hand over Sherlock's arms for a moment, leaning back into him. "I know. But this year, we are definitely having Christmas here. We should invite Ford." He says as he glances back at Sherlock. "You two seem to be getting along well, while I was gone." He says softly, rubbing Sherlock's arm gently before he moves away from him slowly. "Now.. give me your cigarettes." he says as he looks at him with a small smirk.

Pouting a little as he looks at John, but knowing that it's useless to resist, Sherlock sighs a little and nods, going and retrieving them from the drawer, not even having hidden them anywhere because there was no one to hide them from. So he returns quickly, handing John the pack of cigarettes and his lighter.

Peeking inside, John is surprised to find that there aren't that many cigarettes left, and he nods quietly. "This is your only pack?" He asks, waiting for the detective's response, before he nods a little, taking Sherlock's hand to lead him back out into the living room and over to one of the big windows, opening it and then taking out one of the cigarettes. "Last one." he says as he holds it up to Sherlock before he puts it between his lips and lights it, taking a puff before handing it to Sherlock. "For both of us." He notes with a slight smirk.

"You smoked when you were gone. You said you wanted one in stressful situations, I suppose that was very stressful for you, and the others in the unit probably smoked, there's a high probability of it. You scold me, but you should know better as a Doctor as well." Sherlock points out with a little smile, but he does take the cigarette from him, taking a slow draw and exhaling slowly, at least toward the window, watching the smoke escape into the rain.

A small roll of his eyes, and John smirks at Sherlock, stealing back the cigarette. "Yes, I knew better. But like you said, stressful situation." he says with a little shrug of his shoulders, taking a puff of the cigarette before handing it back to Sherlock, leaning against the wide of the window, looking out at the dreary, rainy afternoon which just makes him smile because it is so London.

Taking another few drags off the cigarette, Sherlock puts it out and tosses it out the window, crushing the rest of the ones in the pack as he licks his lips a little, and then finally leans over, kissing John deeply, wanting to kiss him just once when they're like this, tasting the cigarette on John's lips, forming that memory before he releases the older man.

John does not object to the kiss at all, he continues it for a moment, laughing softly when Sherlock pulls away. "Sometimes I wonder what goes on in that mind of yours.." he says quietly before he smiles. "I wish I could see into your Mind Palace, walk the halls with you, understand you that much more." he says quietly with a little smile as he looks into the detective's eyes, reaching up to lay his hand against the soft, pale cheek of the genius, while he smiles and looks him over slowly.

For a few moments, Sherlock watches John and he sighs. "I wish I could show you as well. I dedicated one room to you long ago.. It looks like this, like Baker Street, because... I always think of you as being here. You're always here when I need you." he says quietly as he looks at John, then considers again. "You are my home." he says quietly, tilting his head into the doctor's hand for a few moments. "You and this place.. the only place I will ever consider home." he says quietly as he thinks about it. "There are many rooms. It started as a house, then a mansion as I accumulated more knowledge and needed a better sorting system. Then it turned into a palace." He says quietly as he watches John with a small smile. "I've reorganized it many times. But it is.. I like going there." He chuckles a little. "I always tried to confine you to your room, you know. The representation I have of you in here." He says as he taps his forehead. "When I.. left.. I started finding you in other rooms, or sometimes just wandering. I tried to keep you in one room, but you wouldn't be contained. I finally gave up, and even in my Mind Palace, you helped me. Helped me sort things, helped inspire me." He says quietly as he steps forward, closer to John, leaning down to give him a soft kiss.

A little surprised at the sudden insight into Sherlock's mind, John smiles softly and strokes his cheek lightly for a few moments. "Mmm.. I find it hard to believe, still, that I could play that big of a part, even in your mind palace." he says with a little smile, considering it for a few moment. "I wonder what the chances are that we could get Angelo to deliver some food to us." he say with a little smirk. "Since we've already changed into our comfortable clothes and all." he says quietly, a breeze coming in the window, bringing in the smell of the rain and raising goose bumps on John's skin.

Sherlock reaches over and closes the window, before he smiles at John and tugs him away from the windows, giving him a little push toward the kitchen to make some tea before he goes to find his cellphone, bringing it back to wink at John with a faint smile.

"For me? I think the chances are pretty high."

* * *

**I barely remember what I wrote but hopefully this is not horrible. Hope it's somewhat decent, lol. I am just enjoying writing these two being together and alone, all cute and fluffy and cuddly, so I hope everyone will excuse me for that. :)**

**As always, reviews/comments welcome!**


	43. Chapter 43

Laughing as he stumbles toward the kitchen, John smiles, finally starting to relax, feeling the ghosts that have clung to his back finally fading away as he goes to makes some tea. He looks out the small window into the back alley-ish area, watching the rain come down and he smiles a little before he turns back to his tea, hearing Sherlock on the phone behind him. He lets his eyes closed, letting himself sink into his senses. He doesn't normally try and do this, block out certain things, but he wants to preserve this memory, the smells and sounds of Baker Street. The rustling of fabric and the low, smooth baritone of Sherlock's voice. The sound of rain on the windows as the wind gusts down the street and the splashing of water as the rain follows the gutters down into the street. The smell of tea, the faint tinge of chemicals accenting it, the faint musty smell that comes from old buildings and of course the scent of burnt wood that comes from the fireplace. He hears movement again, and then smiles softly because the scent of Sherlock, with the smoke and the slightly spicy aftershave he wears comes closer, right before he long, lean, strong arms surround him.

"What are you doing?" Sherlock asks, sounding a little disdainful but not meaning to be hurtful, just very confused why John is standing there with his eyes closed. And a slightly concerned way because he isn't sure if something is wrong with John.

"Just enjoying being home, Sherlock. I don't want to take advantage of any of the little things anymore." John says quietly with a small smile as he moves away from Sherlock a little and then turns to hand the detective his mug of tea, before he takes his own and takes a drink slowly. "Is food on its way?" he asks hopefully as he watches the man in front of him.

Still seeming a bit perplexed and slightly concerned, Sherlock drinks his tea and finally nods. "Yes. Angelo said he was more than happy to deliver something for us, he understands why we won't want to leave Baker street, when you've come back. HIs tone suggested something more intimate. But he is overjoyed that you're back." He says with a slight roll of his eyes, slowly leaning back against the kitchen table to finish his tea.

When the doorbell rings, John motions to Sherlock. "You get it. If I get the door, he'll want to hug me and talk to me, and I'll be lucky if the food is still hot by the time I get back up here." he says with a little smile.

Though he's reluctant, Sherlock nods, putting his mug aside and heading downstairs, the booming voice of Angelo able to be heard as he retrieves his food and manages to convince him to take some money though it's not the full price of the meal, before he comes back up to the flat, sighing. "You were correct, John, Angelo would have kept you talking for quite some time." He says as he unpacks the food and gets some ready for the both of them.

John had started up his laptop while waiting for Sherlock, and he smiles. "I was thinking that I should put something up on my blog, maybe just a little note that I'm back, since I did put up something about being gone." he says quietly as he moves to the kitchen, grabbing silverware and such for them all, making some more tea.

Making a noise in the back of his throat, Sherlock nods a little. "That may be a good idea, especially if Harry were told you were missing in action, as I was." he says thoughtfully as he looks at the other man before he sits down with his food.

With a small nod, John turns to his food as he tries to think about what to put in his blog, how to gloss over everything that happened so he doesn't have to give details and also deter people from asking for too many details. He takes pleasure in the meal though, enjoying Angelo's food as always and making quick work of it before he gets up and cleans up, kissing the side of Sherlock's head gently. "I'm going to sit down with my laptop for a little while.." he says quietly as he watches the other man for a few moments before he moves over to the couch with is laptop, putting his feet up before he starts to tap slowly away at the keyboard, watching it in concentration as he writes and rewrites.

Eventually Sherlock comes over and joins him in the room, but he heads over to his violin stand, picking up the instrument and tuning it for a few moments before he plays what is a somewhat lively tune for him, though it's not a jig by any means. Still, that more than anything expresses his feelings at the moment, how happy he is to be here, to have John home, and to get his life back to normal. Now if only there was a decent murder, but with it being so soon after a serial murder case, that was unlikely to happen. Still, that doesn't dampen his happiness any as he looks out the window blankly at the rain that falls over Baker Street.

Looking up when he hears the music, John smiles as he watches his detective, content to be quiet like this for a while, with Sherlock on his violin and him on his laptop. Eventually he finishes a short entry to put up on his blog, hesitating before he posts it, checking his email and such before he puts his laptop aside and merely enjoys the music that he's missed so much, despite taking the recording with him that Sherlock made him for Christmas.

When the song ends, Sherlock stands there for a few moments, bow down at his side hanging from his fingertips, violin still held to his shoulder though he stares out the window, finally turning and packing away the violin carefully, it being one of his most precious possessions, and then goes to join John on the couch, handing him the remote before stretching out with his head in John's lap, trusting the doctor to understand.

A small nod comes from the former soldier as John takes up the remote and turns on the tellie, stroking his free hand idly through Sherlock's hair as he flips through the channels and finally settles down on BBC. "I love you, Sherlock." he says quietly after a few moments.

"I love you, John."

* * *

**Bit more of fluff. Probably going to write up John's blog entry just for the fun of it at some point. :) Sorry for the short-ish story.. my head cold is messing with me.**

**Still, I hope you guys enjoy it, reviews/comments welcome!**


	44. Chapter 44

Things finally settle a little in Baker Street, though Sherlock is still a bit clingy sometimes and he doesn't really let John out of his sight for long periods of time. Which is not something that John really minds. He understands it completely, so it's easy to let Sherlock have that, reassuring him whenever he can. After two weeks of being cooped up together though, Sherlock gets bored and thankfully Lestrade finds them a case. It's simple, for the likes of Sherlock Holmes, but it's something that gets them out, that gets John back into the swing of things and gets Sherlock's mind away from the self-destructive cycle that it had begun to spiral down.

In the last two weeks, John has been doodling in his notebook, keeping it hidden from Sherlock as much as he can, always seeming to be concentrating and sometimes ripping out a page of whatever he's doodling on and tossing it into the fire or otherwise burning it. At the moment that's what he's doing, and with it being a nice, sunny day, he's got all the windows of the flat open, sitting next to one with a pad of paper and a pencil, sketching out something, putting little touches on it.

Having been curious for days but respecting the fact that John wants to keep this private for now, Sherlock finally slowly approaches. "May I see what you've been drawing, John?" He asks hopefully, not trying to peek around the paper but he is intensely curious.

With a little smile, John nods quietly. "Well, you've been very patient, Sherlock, so I suppose I can show it to you, it's something that I've been thinking about for a while now.." he says before he turns the paper around to show Sherlock. It's definitely a design, the basis of which being a pocket magnifying glass, the type that Sherlock carries. Inside the lens is a bullet, as if someone were examining the striations on it, but instead of striations, the words 'In Arduis Fidelis' are spelled out across the edge of the bullet. John watches Sherlock quietly trying to figure out what the younger man might think of it.

Sherlock gently takes the note pad from John, looking down at the paper, staring at the design. "Faithful in Adversity." he says quietly with a small smirk. "An ode to our relationship, John, or merely the motto of your former life?" he asks as he looks at the older man for a few moments.

"A little of both. It is the RAMC motto, but it's like us, isn't it?" John asks with a little smile as he watches the detective. "I feel rather foolish saying this out loud, but I was thinking of it as a.. tattoo design." He says as he looks at Sherlock. "For me, not you. Obviously.' he says with a small chuckle, reaching out and putting his hand over where he knows the tattoo is on Sherlock's chest. One that he's probably already spent hours examining and can picture even with his eyes closed.

At that, Sherlock is a little startled. "I thought you didn't want a tattoo, you thought they were too permanent." He points out as he looks at the doctor suspiciously, putting his hand over the older man's. "You don't need to do this just because I did." he points out, wanting to figure it out.

With a little smile, John nods quietly as he looks at the detective. "I know, Sherlock. And I didn't start thinking about doing this, just because you got one. As far as the permanence.." He pauses for a few moments, then he looks at Sherlock and smiles. "Something that reflects the two of us, what we do, who we are.. I don't mind having that reminder there for me, always. I just haven't figure out where to put it, yet." he says as he consider sit for a few moments, then he shrugs. "I suppose my back is a little limited by the scar on my shoulder." He says as he presses a hand against that shoulder for a moment. "I kept fiddling with the design, but I think I've finally got it right, got it how I want it." he says quietly as he looks at Sherlock.

"I want to be there." Sherlock finally decides, then he smiles softly. "I think it's.. appropriate." he says quietly, then he looks John over slowly, examining him the way any painter might a blank canvas. "The back of your right shoulder, or your arm.. I like the idea that only I will be able to truly see it." he says as he looks at John for a few moments, smiling softly as he hands the paper back to the doctor.

Taking back the paper and looking down at it, John smiles slightly as he looks back up at Sherlock, "Thought you might." he says as he thinks, tearing the page out of the pad. "I already made myself an appointment for tomorrow." A thoughtful pause before he smiles softly and walks past Sherlock, jerking his head to indicate the detective should follow him, walking to the bedroom and putting the paper on the bed before he removes his shirts, going to stand in front of the floor-length mirror to look at himself, shifting his eyes to look at Sherlock over his shoulder, before he turns to the side so he can see a bit of the back of his shoulder, considering for a few moments.

Willing to follow when John leads the way through the flat, Sherlock picks up the paper and smiles as he looks at the blank canvas in front of him, sliding his fingers up John's spine slowly and then over to his right shoulder slowly, then around his arm, comparing the picture to what's in front of him, before he leans down and kisses the top of John's shoulder softly. "Here." He says with certainty as he draws a little circle over the back of John's shoulder, glancing at the picture and then back down at John's skin. "What time is the appointment tomorrow?" he asks quietly, putting the paper aside slowly and carefully, before he just steps back and admires the view.

Glancing back at Sherlock with a little smirk, John nods quietly before he says, "Two o'clock." he says quietly as he turns to face his detective. "Come on, lets go watch some tellie." he says before he goes to retrieve his t-shirt, only to find a cool hand on top of his, stopping him.

"Don't." Sherlock says quietly as he turns to look at John. "Stay like this for a while.." he says as he pulls the doctor's hand away from his shirt. "It's a warm day." he says with a little smile, just in a t-shirt and jeans himself, having taken to wearing jeans more since John seemed to like them so much. At least using them instead of his pajama pants, making him slightly more presentable to someone wandering in.

John laughs softly and then nods quietly. "Alright, Sherlock.. if you insist.." he says as he takes the taller man's hand, squeezing it gently before he leads the way out to the living room. "I would never have thought that you could sit still long enough for a cuddle." he admits as he looks at Sherlock. "It's soothing for you, though, isn't it? Something for that brilliant mind of yours to ponder and try to figure out." He says with a little smirk as he watches Sherlock, laying back on the couch and waiting for the younger man to join him.

Slipping onto the couch to cuddle up next to John, Sherlock nods quietly as he gets comfortable. "Yes. I have no idea why it's so comfortable, or why I enjoy it. But it helps to keep things calm and quiet. It helps me get into my Mind Palace." he says as he thinks about it, then he closes his eyes for a few moments.

"It's one of two times my mind is truly silent, or at least quiet and orderly."

* * *

**John is so sneaky! And alright, I may have teased about John's blog entry, but I sat at my computer, staring at it for a good fifteen minutes trying to figure it out and I came up with nothing. So.. I skipped it. Sorry! :( **

**And really, I kind of wish I had had John at least had an RAMC tattoo, but I remember making the decision early on that he didn't have any, so there you are. Instead, it's something with a little more meaning. Thank you to Duochanfan who suggested the bullet and RAMC's motto! :)**

**SkyeDunn - Goodness, I haven't gotten that far yet. He may eventually, but that may be part of the finale, I have more to do before we get there! :D**

**Thank you to everyone who has read/reviewed this, I love hearing from you!**

**Please let me know what you think!**


	45. Chapter 45

After getting the tattoo, it's still two days before Sherlock is really comfortable with letting John away from him for a long period of time, and by that time John has finally set up a meeting with Ford for them to have that cuppa that Sherlock suggested. He just needs to get out of the flat for a little while, especially since the rawness of his shoulder kind of itches and hurts. But it was worth it when the doctor saw the look on his detective's face when he saw it completed, and how careful he's been helping John with the care of it.

When he gets into the little cafe they agreed on, John glances around until he sees Ford, feeling a touch awkward meeting Sherlock's brother without anyone there, but he's not exactly afraid of it either. After getting something to drink, he heads over and slides into the seat across from Ford, wincing as he twists his shoulder in an odd way. "Ford." he greets with a little smile. "It's been a while, it's good to see you." he offers, offering his hand to the younger man across the table.

It's a miracle that Ford even got this much time off, but as everyone keeps pointing out to him, he needs to take a break more often. And since there is a lull in activity at work, he decided to take up John's offer for a cuppa. "Pleasure to see you again, Dr. Watson." Ford returns, taking the hand and shaking it firmly before he sits back and sips his Earl Grey. "How are things going with my dear brother?" He asks curiously, having chosen this place because it's close to work, but it's also safe, hard to overhear other conversations from the tables, even close by.

For a moment, John almost chokes on his eat, coughing and putting a napkin to his mouth. "Bloody hell.. Sorry." He shakes his head and laughs softly. "You sounded like Mycroft there for a moment, he's the only one I've ever heard refer to Sherlock as 'my dear brother'." He repeats the words in a suitably pretentious tone before he smiles a little. "It caught me off-guard coming from you." he says honestly as he takes another, less lethal, sip of his tea.

A small chuckle comes from the brunette, and Ford adjusts his glasses a little. "Yes, that does rather sound like him." he says softly before he adds, "But you never answered my question.. how are things going with Sherlock? He was.. in rather bad shape while you were gone." he says quietly, sounding a little concerned about that as he twists his mug around for a few moments.

The smile fades from John's face and he sighs as he looks down at the mug. "He's.. we're doing well." he says with a nod of his head. "It was difficult for him at first.. He worried I would disappear. I understand that." He says as he looks at Ford. "I felt the same after he came back from his own.. disappearance." he says quietly, taking a slow, deep breath as he takes another sip of his tea. "This is the first time we've really been apart for any length of time in almost two weeks. It's ok, though. We're getting through it and I think we're going to be the stronger for it." He says quietly with another little smile. "How are you and James?" he asks with a slight smirk.

"For the record, we weren't really together that night, we were just.. work colleagues and friends, sort of." Ford says as he adjusts his glasses a little, blushing lightly for a few moments before he takes a sip out of his mug. "Now we're dating, and things are going splendidly. He's not always around, but I think we would drive each other up a wall if we were together all the time." He says with a little laugh as he looks at John. "Are you alright?" He asks, observant as always.

John had just gone to shift his shoulder again when Ford asks that, and he smiles a little as he looks over at Ford. "It's a little embarrassing." he says before he sighs a little. "It's just.. a tattoo I got recently. Still stings a little, but mostly just itches." He admits as he cups his hands around his mug of tea,

Ford's eyebrows go up in surprise and then he smiles quietly. "I see." he says before he considers for a few moments. "I am not some sort of prude, Dr. Watson. I am not going to suddenly think you inadequate, overlook your military career or your qualifications as a medical doctor, merely because you got a tattoo." he points out in a slightly exasperated tone. "I would hope that I did not make that bad of an impression last time we met."

A small laugh comes from John and he shakes his head for a few moments. "Don't worry, Ford. I don't think that of you at all." he reassures with a little smile as he watches the younger man. "I guess it's the reason why I got the tattoo.. It's.. a bit private, that's all." He says with a small shrug wince makes him pull a face, sighing and adjusting his shirt slightly from where it snagged on the edges of the bandage.

"You don't have to tell me." Ford reassures with a little smile. "Your reasons are your own, and none of my business." he reassures with another small smile. "I'm glad you came back, John. You're very good with my brother, and I can tell he's very much in love with you and very much devoted to you." He says with a little smile across the table at the doctor.

Despite himself, John can feel his ears heat up and the blush across his cheeks. Ducking his head, he runs a hand through his hair, still not used to it being shorter like this. "Yes. Well.." he says awkwardly, not looking at Ford. "I.. feel the same way about him." he says softly, not feeling that it's right to tell someone else how much he loves Sherlock, not in the same words he uses with Sherlock himself. "I.. actually had another motive for asking you here, Ford." He says with a little smile, shifting and pulling a small notebook out of his pocket. "I was hoping you might be able to help me with a little.. project.. Since you're rather good with electronics." he chuckles a little. "I'm not sure how Sherlock will take it, but I thought it would be.. rather clever." He says as he opens the notebook and slides it across the table to show Q the sketch he made. Seems he's been doing that a lot lately, but he had a lot of time to think in the last five months, oddly enough.

Drawing the little notebook toward him, Ford chuckles a little. "Ah, John, you've found my weakness. I do like to tinker." He says thoughtfully as he looks down at the design, and his eyebrows shoot up, hiding in his fringe for a moment. "Bloody hell.. you're serious about this?" he asks as he stares up at John.

Fidgeting a little in his seat, John just nods a little. "Yes, do.. you think it will be.. er.. received.. well?" he asks as he looks at Ford, shifting again uncomfortably before he finishes his tea and slides the cup off to the side. He's been very nervous about this and started the drawing when he was on mission, making notes here or there, even as he came back. It's sort of been a half-baked idea, but recently it's become much more solid.

"Mmm. I think Sherlock will be speechless." Ford says with a little smile before he laughs softly. "But yes, I think he will quite like it. Will you be informing him of my.. modifications?" he asks with a little smirk as he looks up at the older man.

John grins a little and then nods, quite happy to get the seal of approval from Ford. "Yes. Oh, yes. I thought it was something that would be.. useful in his line of work." He says with a small shrug of his shoulders. "Though it's more for my peace of mind, but also for his." He says quietly with a little smile as he looks at Ford. "I haven't decided on this main part yet, I wasn't sure about dimensions, or how much room you might need.." he says slowly as he thinks about it for a few moments.

For a few moments, Ford watches John for a few moments, and then he smiles, nodding quietly. "Well, I am quite a miracle worker, I don't need much room to work." he says with a small chuckle and a nod of his head. "I'll be happy to do this for you, John. Just let me know when you decide on the base, and I'll do what I can." He offers with a small smile as he pushes aside his empty mug as well.

Nodding slowly, John grins, more relaxed and relieved, he reaches across and picks up his notebook, pulling it back and tucking it away in his jacket. "Thanks, Ford. I really appreciate it. And I assume that it goes without saying, not to tell Sherlock about this?" he asks, not sure why he feels the need to ask that, it's just that he's a little concerned about how well this little present will go over.

It seems that Ford understand though because he just smiles softly at John and nods quietly, he understands the need for secrets, especially for something like this. Slowly, he lifts a hand and brushes his fringe away from his forehead, then adjusts his glasses a little where they slid down his nose oddly.

"Of course, John. I understand. My lips are sealed, you have my word."

* * *

**Sorry for making you guys wait so long! I feel bad that I didn't get a chapter up earlier. I was sort of at a loss of what to do with it, though, I felt like I was just flailing around. I found a purpose today, for this story. And that is that it's winding up. I am shooting for an even 50 chapters before I end this story to start on something new. **

**This sort of came as a surprise to me when I realized where it would go, because I honestly thought this one would be going on for much, much longer. But I see a good way to wrap it all up and I think I'm going to take it. It makes me amazingly sad to think that this series would come to an end, but I suppose it would have to happen eventually. :)**

**In case I forget to express it later, thank you so, so much to everyone who has favorited, followed, or commented on this story. The response to it has been absolutely amazing and overwhelming, and to anyone who is reading this and has stuck with me through this story, thank you so much, and I hope that you may check out any new stories that I post, I am already planning another Johnlock one after this. Hopefully I will have a title before I finish this story. :)**

**As always, please let me know what you think, comments/reviews are encouraged, I love seeing even the smallest of comments come through to my mailbox. :)**


	46. Chapter 46

The rest of the meeting goes by amiably, and before long John is shaking Ford's hand as they leave. John promises to let him know when he requires his assistance with his little project. Feeling rather good about that, the doctor heads back toward the flat, smiling a little as he thinks about the detective who is no doubt waiting for him.

Before he even gets inside, he hears the violin from upstairs, and it makes John smile more to hear it. Getting inside, he chuckles when the violin music stops before he even gets all the way up the stairs. "Why did you stop? That was beautiful." he says as he removes his jacket and hangs it up on the hook, before he turns to find Sherlock, violin still resting on his shoulder and the bow hanging loosely at his side.

Examining the doctor for a few moments, Sherlock seems satisfied that nothing untoward happened while John was out. A small hum is all the response that he gives, tucking away his violin as he makes a few more notes on the music sheets on his stand. "How was tea with Ford?" He asks curiously as he makes his notations, then moves back into the room, flopping down on the couch.

"Oohhh.. pouty, are we?" John asks playfully as he watches the detective, grinning a little. "Because my attention was elsewhere?" he teases, removing his boots before he walks over to sit on the edge of the couch, looking down at the sulking detective, reaching out to brush hair back from the younger man's face slowly. "You got too used to me being around all the time, maybe I should get another job so you won't take advantage of me.." he says playfully as he watches Sherlock.

Taking his sulk to the next level, Sherlock rolls onto his side, facing the back of the couch and curling up a little, effectively putting his back to John. "I am not sulking." He mumbles softly. "If you decide to go out, that's your own business. I do not own you, you can do what you like." He says bravely, even as he pulls his knees tighter to his chest. He apparently is not taking the playfulness well if his stiff body language is any indication.

A little sigh is given from John and he shakes his head a little. "Come on, Sherlock.. I'm sorry.. don't pout like this.." he says quietly, shifting until he's laying down behind Sherlock, pressing their hips forward until Sherlock uncurls a little, before he slides one arm around Sherlock's thin waist and up under his arm, resting his hand over the tattoo which is a soothing gesture for them both. Yeah, the position makes his shoulder smart and is not that comfortable, but it's nothing he can't deal with. Once he's laying behind his detective, he leans his head forward and kisses the exposed skin on the back of his neck, nuzzling the soft skin and up into his hair, taking a deep breath. "This isn't just about me meeting Ford, is it? What's the matter, Sherlock?" he asks softly, placing a few more soft kisses against the younger man's neck, trying to soothe and reassure him.

Allowing himself to be manhandled, Sherlock relaxes by degrees as he feels John pressed up behind him and the kisses on his neck which comfort him. "There's no cases." He says quietly, almost reluctantly, in a slightly pouting tone. "I don't mind you going to talk to Ford." he says honestly, not having cared about that part since he thinks they really would get along and knows how much John likes having friends, especially ones that understand about Sherlock. "I have no new experiments. Nothing to do. I'm starting to get bored." He admits, letting out a small, frustrated noise before he shuffles a little, carefully starting to roll over until he's facing John, one arm around the older man's body, stroking his back slowly. "Entertain me." he finally demands as his green-blue eyes meet the deep blue of his doctor's.

John laughs, a small, relieved sound, and then he nods quietly with a little grin. "You're bored." he sounds amazed almost, but mostly relieved as he pulls Sherlock into a tight hug for a moment before resting their foreheads together. "Bloody hell, I can deal with your boredom, I was worried it might be something more serious." he says with a little grin as he looks at the man in front of him, leaning in to give him a tender, lingering kiss. "I'm sure Lestrade will call soon, love.." he reassures softly, running his hand through the detective's hair a few times before his hand slides down his back. "If not, I'm sure we can find something to keep that brilliant mind of yours entertained." He says as he stretches his head up a little to kiss Sherlock's forehead, then nestles back down, wincing a little as his shoulder twinges.

Of course, the little wince catches Sherlock's attention and he sighs. "We shouldn't be laying like this." he says with a shake of his head, placing an apologetic kiss on the doctor's lips, nuzzling against him a little in a way that he knows the older man likes. "Until your shoulder fully heals.. You shouldn't lay on your side at all right now." He says as he glances at him. "You will either hurt your bad shoulder or the tattoo." he murmurs in concern, fingertips trailing across the width of John's chest as he indicates first one shoulder and then the other, considering before he smiles lightly and sits up slowly, tugging on John until he sits up as well, before he lays flat on his back on the couch and tugs his doctor over him. "Better." he says with a nod of his head.

Letting himself be manipulated, John chuckles a little and he nods, settling his weight atop the detective, arms keeping himself from crushing the younger man. "Except now I can't really touch you." He laughs softly, giving him a quick kiss. "There is something for your mind to work on. Positioning on the couch that will keep me from being in pain but allow me to touch you with at least one of my hands." He says, grinning before dipping his head to kiss under Sherlock's jaw softly, taking a deep breath against his skin. "You have made me so lazy again.. I need to get back into an exercise routine." He says quietly with a little shake of his head. "One that is more than just chasing after you around London." he says with a little laugh as he looks into Sherlock's eyes.

That does pose quite a challenge to Sherlock as he looks John over, putting his arm around his doctor, hands stroking his sides and back slowly, lazily moving over his sides and back, not having any other aim than just to enjoy the warmth and feel of John's body as part of his mind works on the problem at hand, going over different positions to try and find the optimal one that would allow John what he wants. "You are hardly lazy, John." He scolds lightly after a moment. "There are many exercises you can do at home without the use of a gym. However, if you wished, we could invest in some equipment to put in your room, since you won't be needing it." he says with a little smile. It's rather unofficial, and there was no great fanfare to it, but most if not all of John's clothes have migrated into Sherlock's room, his toiletries into the ensuite bathroom and his pillow has even moved from his own room to Sherlock's. No one has been into John's former bedroom for months, except maybe Mrs. Hudson to dust and make sure it's cleaned.

"No, I don't think we need to buy any equipment. I don't think I need to join a club, either." John reassures with a little smile. "I just need to stop lazing about in bed with you all morning." He teases, grinning a little. "Though I consider it a minor miracle that I get you to bed at all." he chuckles a little, and dips his head to kiss Sherlock lazily again, just because he can. Because he finds the younger man's lips far too tempting sometimes.

"You don't complain when I keep you in bed all morning.." Sherlock practically purrs, arching his body against John's for a moment teasingly before he relaxes and just stretches out, "I liked your hair longer." He notes as he slides one hand up through the shorter strands, rubbing at his scalp for a moment before his hand slides all the way down John's back.

Humming a little in agreement, John smiles a little as he looks at Sherlock. "I like my hair longer, too." he says quietly, then he laughs softly. "I think I've created a monster in you, Sherlock. I introduce you to the wonderful world of affection, and sex, and you become a fiend." He says with another grin, giving him another kiss. "And you're right.. How can I complain when the love of my life can't keep his hands to himself in the morning? Makes me feel pretty good." He admits with a broad grin. "Afterall, I am getting older, I won't be able to spend hours in bed with you for many more years." he teases softly, lowering his head to nuzzle his neck and place a soft kiss against the pulse in the detective's neck. It's more just pressing his lips there and lingering for a moment before he pulls away, lifting his head to look down into the other's eyes.

"You are in far better shape than most people half your age, John. I speak from experience that your sexual stamina is quite healthy as well." Sherlock laughs a little, and then tilts his head back to expose more of his neck, pleased, before he nudges John up, sitting up slowly. "Are you going to tell me what you talked to Ford about?" he asks quietly as he continues to nudge John until he's sitting on the couch properly. Once that's accomplished, he straddles the older man's lap, settling down comfortably before draping his long arms over the doctor's shoulders.

John smiles a little as he leans back on the couch, his hands resting on Sherlock's waist. "Is this your ideal position?" He asks before he smirks a little, finally deciding to put the detective out of his misery. "We didn't talk about much. He said he was glad I was back, we talked about how things were going with our respective partners. He and James are apparently practically living together, and officially together." he says as he looks at Sherlock. "I have the vague feeling he was plotting my imminent demise if I were to hurt you, but he never said as much." A small shrug is given as he considers it. "And he agreed to help me on a little project." This is dangerous to say to the detective, he knows that much, but he also knows that one way or another he will probably find out on his own.

"Project?" Sherlock sounds particularly intrigued now as he leans in and gives John a lazy, slow kiss. "What kind of project?" he asks, obviously trying to wheedle it out of his doctor.

Laughing a little after the kiss, John grins as he looks at Sherlock. "One that is supposed to be a surprise. So I don't want you prying, Sherlock. I'm telling you so that you'll understand. This is important to me. very, very important, and I need you not to do your deductions about it or otherwise try to figure out what I'm doing for it, ok?" he asks as he lifts a hand and places it against Sherlock's cheek, thumb stroking the soft skin. "Alright?" he presses when there's a moment of hesitation.

Sighing a little because he knows he can't deny his doctor, Sherlock nods a little as he looks at the man in front of him, tilting his head into the warm, calloused hand of the older man before he turns his head to kiss the palm.

"I will try and keep myself from being too nosy, John. I promise."

* * *

**Aaaannnd.. I can't resist the fluff. They are just too adorable for me not to keep going back to it. :) Thank you all for reading, you guys rock. :)**

**Please let me know what you think, comments/reviews welcome and encouraged!**


	47. Chapter 47

When you are trying to keep a secret from a certain Sherlock Holmes, it's best to act like you aren't keeping a secret. Because that's the only way to keep the detective from latching onto it like a blood hound onto a scent. Also, a little bit of emotional blackmail about the importance of not prying always helps. Luckily for John his plans can proceed rather well because a big case comes up and by the time they catch the criminals, the consulting detective has been thoroughly diverted from anything that John might have been planning.

Telling Sherlock that he's going to go do some shopping one day, not just for groceries but some other things as well, John strikes out into London. Of course, he does need groceries but there are more important things that he needs to look at for his little plan. He gets a shock however when he comes out of one of the shops, looking down at some notes he made in his notebook. When he looks up, Detective Inspector Lestrade is standing there, doing a bit of a double take once he spots John.

Letrade glances up at the store that John just came out of, then looks back at John for a few moments. "Hello, John." He greets, shaking hands with the doctor before he glances at the shop again. "Doing a bit of shopping?" he asks casually, though clearly burning with questions.

A glance behind him, and John turns a bit pink before he nods slowly. "Hullo, Greg." He says in return before he clear shis throat a bit. "Yes, well. Sort of. Just a bit of research." he admits, closing his notebook and tucking it into his jacket pocket.

"So you're shopping for-"

"Yes."

"And you're considering -"

"Yes."

"And you've managed to keep this a secret?"

"So far."

"Bloody hell, mate." Lestrade laughs a little as he looks at John, then he grins and nods quietly. "Found anything you liked? Take it from me, it's something you should put a lot of thought into. And it should be durable." He says with a slight smirk, looking around the shopping district.

"Trust me, Greg. I had a while to think about this while I was away. There's no advice you can give me that I haven't already thought of." John reassure with a nervous laugh. "I've told Sherlock that my secret is important to me, and for him not to pry. He said he would try not to." The doctor says with a small chuckle, moving away from the shop a little more so he's not blocking anything. Noticing the bags that Greg is holding, John grins a little. "Fancy a pint?" he asks as he motions down the street where he knows a pub is.

Greg nods firmly as he shifts his hold on the one bag he has in his hands. "I think that's required at this point, I think you need to explain a few things, John." he points out with a little grin, turning to head down toward the pub with John. "How have you been? In general, I mean, we didn't get a lot of a chance to chat recently, what with that case and all." he says as they settle down at a table together, and Greg orders the first round. "Sherlock won't mind if you're out for a bit?" he asks, having noticed that they still stuck a bit closer together than they might have before.

Shaking his head a little, John smiles. "No, he won't mind, I told him I'd be out for a bit. Still.. just in case." he says as he pulls out his phone, not wanting Sherlock to start sulking if John comes home smelling of alchohol when the detective expected him to be shopping.

- Ran into Lestrade at the shops. Having a pint. -JW

It doesn't take long, and John glances down at his phone when it goes off, chuckling a little and shaking his head. "He's fine, hopefully he won't burn down the flat while I'm one." he says in an amused tone full of affection and love for his detective.

- I'm not picking you up if you get drunk. -SH

- I won't get drunk. Don't burn the flat down. I love you. - JW

- Won't burn the flat down. May need a new tea towel. I love you too. - SH

Greg watches John for a moment and then he chuckles. "I never thought I would honestly see you two together, no matter how we joked about it. It's good to see you btoh happy. Hell, even Sherlock is more mangeable now." He says thoughtfully, raising his glass in a little salute before he takes a long drink of the frothy liquid.

Lifting his own glass to his lips, John takes a sip and glances at his cellphone before he smiles and shakes his head, tucking the phone away. "Shockingly, I am very happy. Even though I am fairly sure Sherlock has destroyed another one of our towels. Now I know I'm lost, Greg." He laughs a little, and sits back, getting comfortable. "A year ago, knowing tha Sherlock had destroyed a towel would have made me quite angry. Right now, I can't help feelin anything but amusement. Because it's Sherlock, and it's just.." He trails off, shaking his head slowly as if he can't find the word for it, then he shrugs helplessly. "Well. It's Sherlock, isn't it?" He asks with a little laugh.

"Bloody hell, mate. You've got it bad." Greg says with a little laugh and a grin as he takes another drink of his beer. "I understand what you mean, though. If you're going to be involved with a bloke like him, you have to take him for what he is, yeah? There's not changing him, he's too bloody stubborn. And he wouldn't like you if you wanted to change him or if you were boring. It's actually quite a compliment taht he cares about you as much as he does." he says thoughtfully with another smile, shifting in his chair to get comfortable.

A small nod is given and another drink taken from hi sglass. "Trust me, if there is one thing that I know, absolutely am sure about, it is how very lucky I am. I considered myself rather lucky when I was just Sherlock's flatmate, when he called me his best friend." he gives a sort of disbelieving shake of his head and a shrug, smiling as he looks down at his pint. "There is no better drug in the world than to have that brilliant mind focused solely on you. To know that nothing about you will be deleted, that you will not become irrelevant in his mind." He says quietly as he tries to explain it to Greg without giving away any intimate details. "I am still surprised sometimes when he remembers the oddest little things. Like my favorite biscuits, or the fact that if I lay certain ways my shoulder will hurt in the morning, so he makes sure I don't put pressure on it at night or if I lay on the couch." he smiles fondly, eyes getting a faraway look in them as he thinks about the little things that Sherlock sometimes remembers that still makes him fall in love with the detective all over again.

Like the good friend that he is, Greg listens to everything John has to say, smiling and shaking his head slowly. "Blimey. I miss that feeling." he says quietly, the divorce having gone through with his wife about a month after John left for his little trip, which means that he's moved into a small, somewhat depressing flat, not that he's there all that often to find out how depressing it is. Thankfully.

"Sorry, mate. I'm sure you'll find it again. How have things been going with you, alright? Don't make me start worrying about your eating and sleeping habits, too." John says in a concerned tone as he looks at the man across from him, glancing him over with a practiced eye. And while he looks a little rumpled, Lestrade appears to be rested and eating well from what John can see.

Lestrade smiles a little and shakes his head. "No, I'm not sure if I'll find something like that, John. But thanks for the vote of confidence." he chuckles a ltitle and smiles. "And I'm getting food and sleep, probably a bit too much junk food, but I'm a bachelor now, it takes some getting used to. Anyway, you don't nee dto worry about me. Worry about your... shopping." He says with a broad grin as he finishes his pint.

"Speaking of, I should get back to it." John says as he finishes his own drink, putting money on the table. "It was good seeing you, we should do this again." He says as he holds out his hand to the detective, giving it a firm shake.

"Take care of yourself, Greg. And I'll let you know how my project goes."

* * *

**Hehee. And now Greg knows John's plan! Or part of it at least. I realized that we hadn't seen Lestrade for quite a while, so I wanted to bring him in again before the end. I haven't had many other characters in this, I need to work on that for my next story maybe, heh.**

**Thank you all for reading, just three chapters to go to the big finale! I hope you're all enjoying this, please comment/review! Let me know what you think!**


	48. Chapter 48

When dealing with the Holmes family, there are several things you need to know, and one of them is when a sleek black car pulls up beside you and a beautiful woman tells you to go in, there's really no point in fighting it. So a few days later when just such a thing happens to John, he sighs a little and turns to look at the car. "Seriously, he could bloody well call me." He says as he gets into the car, shutting the door harder than necessary. "Warehouse or office today?" He asks bluntly as he looks over at the beautiful young woman who barely ever turns away from her blackberry. When he gets no answer to that question, he sighs. "So, who are we today?" he asks with a little smirk at the woman.

The brunette formerly known as Anthea glances up at John for a few moments and considers. "I'm feeling like a Natasha today." She says quietly with a knowing smirk at John before she turns back to tapping away on her blackberry.

Shaking his head a little, John smirks for a few moments. "Well, you'll always be Anthea to me." He says as he looks out the window, waiting until the car stops. "Ah. An office today. That means I might get a cuppa." He says happily as he steps out of the car and waits to follow the assistant into the building, looking around when he is shown into an office. "You know, you once told me that Sherlock was very dramatic, I think he learned it from you, Mycroft. Since you're incapable of giving someone a simple phone call. Honestly, doesn't your assistant and driver have anything better to do with their day?" He asks as he walks to stand in front of the large, pretentious wooden desk, clasping his hands behind his back.

Mycroft looks up from his paperwork and gives a little, false smile before he adds, "I am a very busy man, John, despite appearances. It was merely more convenient to invite you here. My assistant is quite capable of handling her job from her phone as I'm sure you're aware." He says calmly, not seeming phased by anything, much less John's annoyance with him. "I merely wanted to speak with you, and see how my brother is doing. He had a rather difficult time when you were away, as I'm sure you know." He says casually as he looks down at the paper on his desk, signing it before putting it into a folder and setting that folder aside.

"Bloody hell, Mycroft. Honestly, I think everyone has said that. Sherlock was in bad shape when I was gone, I get it. Interesting how no one said anything to him when he came back from the dead." John says in a cold tone as he watches Mycroft, crossing his arms over his chest. "The difference is, I was only considered missing for a month." He notes as he looks at the man in front of him. "Sherlock and I are working through everything. He's fine, he's not as bad off as you think, probably because he had Ford to talk to. Lord knows you're not going to help him, you would just watch from behind your desk as he fell apart." Slowly, John shakes his head for a few moments. "Maybe if you went outside into the real world for a little while and made an attempt to get to know your brother rather than trying to act like his father, you might be able to find out all these little things for yourself."

Finally looking up from his paperwork, Mycroft's eyebrows go up in surprise as he listens to the doctor's little rant. "I realize that we haven't always been on the best terms, Dr. Watson." he says in a slightly cool voice, leaning on his desk with his hands clasped together in front of him. "I do, however, care for my brother. I was the one who forced him into a rehabilitation facility when his drug problem nearly caused him to overdose. That is why I started to keep an eye on him in the first place. Up until then, I did not keep such a close eye on him, and look where it got him. If Sherlock did not tell you this, then I apologize for revealing it to you instead. I merely wish for you to understand that what I do, is out of concern for my brother. Perhaps we were not raised to be as sympathetic and caring as you were, but you have witnessed my family and know that first hand. It does not mean I am not capable of it." He says as he levels John with a steady look. "That is something you will have to accept if you are going to stay with Sherlock."

A small frown crosses John's face before it smoothes out and she relaxes a little, taking a deep breath. "I don't need to know the details of Sherlock's drug habit, Mycroft. All I need to know is that he had one, and that's in the past." He says as he considers it, then he tilts his head as he continues to watch Mycroft. "I do believe that you care about Sherlock. Just think you could show it by trusting him a little more." Sighing a little, John runs one hand through his hair, scratching the back of it gently for a moments. "I'm going to be around for a while, Mycroft. As long as Sherlock will let me. And right now, I hope that's until one or both of us dies. Later rather than sooner, preferably." He says with a little laugh, shaking his head for a few moments. "Knowing Sherlock, I may not get that wish." he admits with a little smile.

For a few minutes there is silence as Mycroft watches John, taking in everything for a few moments before he leans back in his seat. "I see. Well, I do hope you both get to live a long life together. It was good seeing you again, Dr. Watson." He says before he turns away as Anthea opens the door and waits for John.

Shaking his head for a few moments, John follows Anthea out, relieved when he finally gets back to Baker Street, heading upstairs, relieved to be home. For a moment, he stops in the doorway and looks around the flat, thinking of all the memories that they have there, from the time they moved in and there were boxes strewn everywhere, to the emptiness of it when he thought Sherlock was dead, and Sherlock pacing around the carpet before Christmas, trying to figure out how to get out of going to Christmas, or get John to come with him. Smiling a little as he remembers Christmas and everything that has happened since then, he looks up to find Sherlock staring at him with a strange look on his face.

"Are you alright, John?" Sherlock asks cautiously, having been watching the way the doctor had a small smile on his lips as he looked around, though with a faraway look on his face, eyes not quite focused on everything like he's remembering, and the lanky detective is not really sure what to think of that.

The small smile spreads into a little bit of a grin as John nods. "Yes.. everything is perfect, Sherlock. I was just remembering.." The doctor admits as he looks around. "The first time you showed me this flat, for example." he says quietly, the smile faltering for a few moments. "The.. gas explosion, how I felt when I saw it on the news... The emptiness when I thought you were dead.." He says slowly, then he smiles a little again. "You being a bloody idiot, pacing around trying to figure out Christmas." Finally he pushes himself away from the door frame he was leaning on, and he walks over to Sherlock, resting his hand on the younger man's waist and looking up into his eyes. "And everything since Christmas." He says quietly, glancing toward the bedroom for a moment before he looks back at Sherlock. "This flat is home. But mostly, and I know how bloody cheesy this sounds, but it's home because you're here." He says quietly, pulling his detective down for a gentle but sensual kiss.

When the kiss breaks, Sherlock slides his arms around John, resting their foreheads together gently. "I had thoughts like that when you were gone. I would sit and just remember, sink into my Mind Palace.." He says quietly, taking a deep breath before he smiles. "We have a lot of good memories here." He says before he smiles a little, considering as he watches John. "Mycroft kidnapped you." he says after a few moments. "What did he say?" he asks, frowning a little.

Laughing a little, John grins up at Sherlock. "Nothing, you great idiot. Nothing of consequence, nothing I didn't already know. Come on, then." he says, pulling back and taking Sherlock's hand. "You still owe me dinner at Angelo's. Last time we tried it didn't quite work out, now did it?" he asks with a slight smirk, glancing Sherlock over, before turning and tugging Sherlock back toward the bedroom. "Go on, change." he says as he leans against the doorway.

Following the small army doctor, Sherlock chuckles low in his throat as he steps into the bedroom, removing his dressing gown an dropping it on the bed. "Going to stand there and watch?" he asks as he regards the older man curiously.

Crossing his arms over his chest, John smirks a little as he looks the detective over, considering, then nodding a little.

"You bet your arse I am."

* * *

**I feel like I'm kind of doing a curtain call here. It's making me a little sad. And yet super excited for my final chapter, because it's gonna be a doozy! :D**

**Hope everyone is enjoying, please let me know what you think!**


	49. Chapter 49

A week later, John makes his final decision and arranges to meet Ford in order to go over the final designs that he sketched out. When he goes into the same cafe they met last time, he finds that not only is Ford there, but James is sitting there too which makes him arch an eyebrow. "James, good to see you again in one piece. From what I've gathered there are quite a few occupational hazards to your job." He says with a little smile. "Ford, good to see you again as well." he says as he shakes each of their hands again.

With a small smirk, James glances over at Ford. "Don't worry. I'm not staying. Just thought I'd get myself a cup of coffee and keep.. Ford.. company until you got here." He chuckles a little, hesitating over the name as if he's not used to it, or had to think about it for a split second.

Ford nods a little, giving James a look before he shakes his head. "It's good to see you again, John. Did you finally get what you were looking for?" He asks curiously as he watches John for a few moments.

"I suppose that's my cue. I need to get back to work anyway." James says quietly, putting one arm behind Ford's chair before he leans over and gives him a soft kiss, smirking when he pulls back and sees how pink Ford's face is. "Text me when you leave." he says in a concerned tone, placing one more brief kiss on his lips before he gets up, nodding to John. "Good to see you again, John." He says before he picks up his takeaway coffee up and walks out.

John watches this for a few moments and he chuckles a little. "Good to see you two are doing well." he says quietly with a little smile. "I take it you two don't get out in public very often." He says as he watches Ford closely.

Clearing his throat a little and adjusting his glasses, Ford shakes his head. "No, not really. What little free time we have away from work, we usually spend a the flat." He admits with a small chuckle. "I suppose it still takes me by surprise whenever he kisses me in public." He admits, running a hand through his already messy hair, taking a slow, deep breath. "So. Has my brother figured out your evil plot yet?" He asks, sipping his coffee.

"No, I asked him not to pry, and so far he hasn't. At least not that I'm aware of. I've been able to keep this a secret, the final step is for you to make the modifications." John explains, taking out the materials and the final designs from his pocket, placing them in front of Ford.

Unfolding the piece of paper, Ford looks at it and nods, then looks at what he has to work with. "Yes. Yes, this will work very good. Since we talked last, I've been experimenting with doing something like this, and I think it could be quite effective in other fields. Of course, you two will sort of be the test subjects." he says with a little smile, getting a soft of manic look in his eyes that John recognizes as a similar look to the one Sherlock gets when there's a particularly interesting experiment for him.

It's so similar that John can't help but chuckle a little. "I feel like I've just unleashed a monster." He says with a little smile. "The modifications, they're doable though?" he asks as he looks at Ford curiously, leaning forward on the table.

A small nod is given, and Ford smiles. "Yes. I'll be able to get them back to you in about a week. Assuming that there are no emergencies that come up." He reassures, then he sits back a little. "Now that that is out of the way.." he says as he tucks everything away into his bag. "I hear that it's been slow for Sherlock, except for that big case of course. Oddly enough, Mycroft called me. I don't think I've ever gotten a personal phone call from him." There's a certain thoughtful tone to his voice as he takes a sip of his earl grey.

"Yes, I sort of told him off the other day. Though I don't see why that would make him call you. It's certainly not like I haven't done it before. I told him off after Sherlock apparently died." John admits, ordering a black coffee from the waitress before he looks across the table at Ford.

Ford nods slowly as he looks at John. "Yes, well, apparently whatever you said inspired some sort of.. brotherly revival within him. We actually chatted for about five minutes before I had to hang up. It was truly strange. I don't think he has shown that much concern for me since I was five."

A small snort comes from John. "I don't doubt it. If only he could get past his obsession with kidnapping people." He says before he leans forward on the table a little. "You three seem to have your own little quirks about people. He likes to kidnap them, Sherlock deduces them and is otherwise pretty oblivious, and as far as I can tell about you..." Here he pauses just to try and make up his mind since he hasn't known Ford as long as he's known the other two Holmes boys. "You seem more comfortable with technology than people. Mycroft is good at manipulating people, he understands them the best. Sherlock prefers science. It's interesting how all three of you grew up with a certain disdain for the human race." He jokes with a little smirk as he watches the man across the table, accepting his coffee when it comes and taking a tentative sip.

"Well, I think you can imagine how we turned out this way, given the environment we all grew up in. Except Mycroft of course." Ford at least seems amused by John's observations and not upset about them at all. "You have picked up some of the skills from Sherlock, that was an excellent deduction." he jokes, chuckling a little before he finishes his tea. "I'm glad that you and he are doing well."

John tries not to spit out some of his coffee as he laughs, coughing a little afterwards. "Well. Thank you. Right." He says with another little laugh. "I'm afraid I haven't had much to do other than spend time with Sherlock since I got back. I resigned my job before I left. And since Sherlock seemed to... need me more than I needed a job, I haven't looked for another one yet." He says before he smiles. "If Sherlock had his way, I wouldn't get another job, but I would like to use my skills. Still, I haven't decided on that front yet." A small shrug of his shoulder is given before he looks at Ford. "I'm under the impression I shouldn't ask too much about what you and James do, but I take it you're still happy in your positions?"

"I understand the need to be away from my brother, at least for small periods of time. Perhaps you could get a job consulting somewhere, or part time as a GP." Ford offers as he looks at the older man. "I could make some discreet inquiries of you want." He offers, then he smiles a little at the rest. "Ah, yeah, best if you don't ask too many questions. But James and I work well together and we are still satisfied in our jobs." He reassures. "It would be nice to have a bit more time off together, but if we had too much time together I think we would end up hurting each other." He says thoughtfully before his phone makes an alert noise and he pulls it out, unlocking it before he sighs. "I cannot step away for ten minutes without there being a crisis. I'm sorry. It seems that I have to head back to work. I'll let you know when everything is ready for you. It was good seeing you again, John." He says, gathering his messenger bag together and standing, offering his hand to the smaller man.

With a brief thought of how unfair it is all three of the Holmes' can tower over him a bit, John shakes the other man's hand firmly and he nods. "I understand, I expected Sherlock to text me any moment." He smiles, pulling out his phone to check it just in case before he looks back up at Ford. "Good luck at work."

Ford nods and leaves money on the table for his coffee before he smiles softly and nods to John. "You as well, John."

* * *

**AHHH! Next: Final Chapter, big Finale! I hope to make it a whopper, but I will have to put some serious thought into it. I am not sure if I will get it done tomorrow or not, I may have to forfeit all of my other writing in favor of finishing up the chapter for this one. Again, thank you all for reading and following this. I have 3 other stories currently in process, though they are not Sherlock themed, they are James Bond. I have one Sherlock fic on hiatus, but I am hoping to get back to that one. I hope that if you have enjoyed this story you may check out my other stuff.**

**Ok, I usually hate doing plugs for my other stories, so please excuse that previous one. It's a bit shameless, but you guys have just been so amazing, that I want to make you guys happy. :D**

**Let me know what you think, review/comment!**


	50. Chapter 50

True to his word, Ford returns everything within a week with the requested upgrades, and then it's just a matter of John catching Sherlock on a good day and making a few extra plans. Finally, one afternoon when the weather suddenly turns from rainy and dreary to sunny and surprisingly warm, John convinces Sherlock to come with him, saying something about getting cabin fever. By the time Sherlock gets to the cab, John has already arranged where to go, remaining relatively silent though he keeps the younger man's hand in his as they drive, hands resting together on the seat between them.

For some reason, Sherlock has a bad feeling about this, and he can't deduce what's going on. The odd feeling even gets worse when they arrive at St. Bart's, but he pays and heads out of the cab with the doctor. The feelings settle as they initially start heading toward the labs and Sherlock feels a lot better about that. That is, until they bypass that floor and keep going up. By the time he realizes they're going to the roof, John is a few steps ahead of him on the stairs and since Sherlock is still holding onto his hand he stops, giving the older man's hand a slight tug to get him to stop, which he does, looking at Sherlock curiously.

"John.." Sherlock begins slowly, not sure what he feels about getting up onto the roof of St. Bart's again. "John, we don't.. ever have to.." he motions vaguely toward the door to the roof that he can see a half a dozen steps ahead of them.

Smiling softly at his detective, John steps down so he's standing one step above Sherlock, which makes him a little taller than the younger man. Squeezing his hand and lifting his free one to rest it against the pale cheek of his lover, John smiles a little. "It's alright, Sherlock. Trust me. I want to erase some bad memories." He says quietly, leaning in to reassure the genius with a soft kiss before he heads up the stairs. Thankfully it seems that Sherlock has misinterpreted his nervousness to the location rather than anything else, which just makes him think all the more that this was the right spot.

Reluctant but figuring that maybe John needs some emotional closure or something like that, Sherlock follows him up the rest of the stairs, stepping out onto the flat roof and looking around as the wind whips at them as it gusts. He follows the doctor to the middle of the roof, curious as they face each other, and once again the detective looks around at everything, remembering the last time he was up here with a little shudder.

There's silence for a few moments as both of them take in their own memories, John remembering the last time he was near this roof. Finally, he turns back to Sherlock, not having really prepared a speech or anything, so he starts at the beginning.

"We first met here, Sherlock. Not here, of course, but in the labs. Do you remember that? It was probably just another day for you, nothing important. But I was.. broken. And I was so angry at the time. I didn't think I'd have a place to live much longer, much less a purpose to my life after I was invalided home. And of course then there was the limp." John begins with a little smile. "And then, Mike introduced me to you. You were confusing and amazing, and I thought you were a bit bonkers. But I was intrigued, and that was the thing that led me to meet you the next day. You were.. so odd. I got caught up in the whirlwind that is you. You fixed me, Sherlock. You gave me a purpose again." he laughs softly as he thinks about it, squeezing Sherlock's hand gently. "Being your friend and flatmate was amazing, frustrating, and exhilarating. I wouldn't trade any of those memories for anything in the world." He says quietly, looking away over at the spot that Sherlock jumped from. "Then came Moriarty. And the Fall." He says as he continues to stare at that spot. "I lost you that day, I thought I had lost my everything. My purpose, my future, my best friend." Slowly, he turns back to look at Sherlock, and puts his hand over his detective's lips softly when it looks like he might say something. "No, Sherlock.. just.. just listen. Let me work through this." he says with a little smile, giving him a reassuring kiss before he says, "Right. The fall." As he gets his mind back on track.

"After I thought you had died, my world stopped. And it was then, I think, that I realized how deeply I felt about you. I didn't really think about the fact that it might be romantic, I just knew that you were the most important person in my life and I never told you. And then you were gone." John says with a little hitch in his breath, taking a slow, deep breath. "You finally came back to me, and just like the first time you threw my world on its head when I was just trying to get back to some sense of normality." He says as he looks into the sad, slightly confused face of the detective. "I was.. so happy.. I was angry of course, and annoyed. But so, so happy to have you back, to know that I could have you back in my life. I couldn't say when my feelings turned from that of a friend to love." He says as he looks at Sherlock. "But bloody hell, do I love you." He says it almost like it's a relief, letting out a breath with a small sigh, then he chuckles. "You are brilliant, and you're a bloody idiot. You are not what I ever thought I wanted, but you are everything I need. I can't imagine my life without you, and I don't think I could survive losing you again." he says as he gives the detective's hand a squeeze, his other casually resting in his pocket as he might any other time. "You are the only person I have ever loved. We've had our ups and downs, good times and bad, and oddly enough I wouldn't trade any of it. Because if any of it were different, we may not be standing here, right now." He says quietly, before he takes a slow, deep breath, trying not to show his nervousness. "Our future may not be certain, but the one thing I know is certain is that I love you, and I want to be with you for the rest of my life."

Finally, John takes a slow step back from Sherlock, releasing his hand before he slides a small black box out from his pocket, looking down at it for a few moments, before he shifts, and slowly gets down on one knee, opening the box to present it to Sherlock. He may feel a little odd doing this, but if he's going to do something, he's going to do it all the way and do it right. "Sherlock Holmes.. will you marry me?" He asks, swallowing hard for a moment as his nervousness overtakes him.

Through the entire speech, Sherlock has been watching John, taking in the little cues since he's not allowed to say anything. He notices that the doctor is nervous, but not in a bad way, so this conversation is not going to end up with John leaving him or something. That alone makes the detective relax a little as he falls silent to listen, quirking a small smile as he listens to some of the things that John says. By the time John gets around to popping the big question as it were, Sherlock has figured out where this conversation is going, so he's not surprised when he sees John get down on one knee, he merely arches an eyebrow, considering it for a few moments. "Yes, John.. of course I will." he says with a shake of his head, his voice implying how much of an idiot John is forever doubting him. He reaches down to help John to his feet before he leans down and gives the older man a deep, searing kiss, pressing close to him for a few moment, finally breaking it before things progress too far. Gently, he plucks the ring box from John since the doctor seems a little stunned, taking out the platinum band, looking at the small sliver of sapphire that is embedded in the metal, examining it. "No engraving?" He asks, surprised since he thought that was just the sort of sentimental thing that John would do.

More relieved than he could put into words, John puts one hand behind Sherlock's neck to hold him into the kiss, breathing a little heavily when it's broken. Thankfully he wasn't nervous enough to have the backlash of wobbly knees and everything. When Sherlock takes the ring out, John smiles a little. "I thought that was something we could work out together." He says before he takes it from the detective and slowly slides it onto his finger, pleased that it fits just right. "Ah. And Ford made a few modifications for me. There's tracking chips in both of our rings." He says as he takes out another from his pocket, showing a similar ring with a shard of fire opal in it instead of the sapphire.

Sherlock watches John for a few moments, taking the ring from him and sliding it onto the doctor's finger. "Considering our line of work, that was a good idea, John." He says with a nod of his head, putting both ring boxes back into John's jacket pocket, before he dips his head down to capture the former soldier's lips in another intense kiss, finally pulling away just enough to murmur, "Take me home, John." Against the older man's lips.

Being left again with very little to do other than respond, John slides his arms around the lanky man and pulls him tight as he responds to the kiss. He chuckles a little at the request and then he nods.

"Always, Sherlock. I will follow wherever you lead."

End.

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**Awwww... And that's the end! I looked back, and I have been writing this series, the original and this sequel, for just over three months. It has become so much a part of my thought process, it's going to be really hard to give this up. But all things must end, and it was time for this story, and for me to move on to another project. I will miss this story. I am so, so grateful to everyone who has read and reviewed this, it's really kept me going when I wasn't sure if it was worth writing anymore. You guys are fantastic. I hope everyone enjoys reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it.**

**Please let me know what you think. I have another Sherlock/John story planned, the title will be Fighting Breeds Remorse, and I hope to have the first chapter up in the next day or two. Thank you again!**


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